


Unbreakable

by SkylarEQuinn



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-23
Updated: 2019-10-22
Packaged: 2020-12-28 18:35:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 27,760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21141317
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SkylarEQuinn/pseuds/SkylarEQuinn
Summary: When America is put under lockdown by his president, the whole world begins to panic. Having no one else to turn to, Canada turns to Russia for help on how to save America, fearing the Russia will be their last hope.





	1. Chapter 1

It was another fine day for a world meeting. Every nation in the world was gathered around a large table, ready to begin, yet something didn't seem right. Each nation looked around the table at one another until every pair of eyes rested on the empty seat between England and Russia. An unsettling silence fell upon the room. They all knew who was missing, but no one wanted to acknowledge it. No one wanted to say it out loud, for fear that it would actually be true.

England sighed as he looked to his left. It wasn't like his brother to skip out on a meeting like this. He frowned to himself as his mind drifted off for a moment. America, where are you? he thought to himself. His fingers irritably tapped on his notebook as his eyes darted toward the double doors of the room every few seconds to check for America.

Germany cleared his throat at the front of the room. "I believe we should take roll call," he stated. "We just need to make sure everyone is here." He felt just as uncomfortable as every other nation at the fact that America was missing, but he knew that he couldn't let them know that. After all, America was all grown up. He could take care of himself. Germany was certain that the nation in question was just fine.

As the Germanic nation began the roll call, the room fell into a dead silence, other than the nations calling out that they were there. And when he called out America's name, there was no answer. It was almost as if every nation took a collective gasp and all frowned. No one knew what to do as Germany continued down the list as if nothing had happened.

Russia felt himself growing more and more anxious, though he didn't understand why. What did he care that that stupid, loud-mouthed kid was gone? It just meant that the meeting would go on a lot more smoothly than it normally did. There wouldn't be any "I'm the hero!" bullshit or anything like that. Yet still, why did he feel so melancholy over it? It didn't make sense for Russia to be feeling that way over America's absence.

And then there was Canada, America's own brother, who looked so much like him. He sat in the back of the room, hoping that no one would notice him. On normal days, he was dying to be noticed by the other nations, but just not that day. He knew where his brother was. He knew exactly what was going on with America, and why he couldn't be there. But it wasn't like he wanted to tell anyone that. It was America's business, even if he couldn't talk to anyone but Canada at the time.

Canada nuzzled Kumajiro closer to him as the meeting began. He could heard England and France bickering back and forth like they normally did. That sort of thing didn't bother him as much as it did when he was a child. He knew his fathers loved each other, whether they acted like they did or not.

Mostly, Canada kept his gaze on the floor, trying his best to ignore the eyes that Prussia was making at him from across the room. If there was anything he didn't want at the moment, attention was definitely it. Attention had to be the worst thing in the world. The more attention he got, the more people would remember him. And the more people remembered him, the more they would realize that he was America's brother and probably knew something about what was going on with America.

At just the thought of people piecing all of that together, Canada quietly gasped out and vigorously shook his head. Luckily, it didn't gain the attention of anyone around him. With any luck, he would be able to stay that invisible throughout the entire meeting.

.

England nervously and absently tapped his pen on his notepad until France finally slipped the pen from his hand and gave him a worried look. The British nation sighed when the two locked eyes. He mouthed the words, "I'm sorry," to the other nation, but France just merely shook his head and nodded toward the door.

No one else seemed to be paying attention during the meeting, so the two just casually slipped out the door, one after the other. England knew that France wanted to talk about America, but he knew it was going to hurt to talk about him as well. Though he fought with his younger brother almost constantly, he was highly concerned about America's well-being, and something seemed horribly wrong at the moment.

"Something seems a bit off, no?" France asked England once they were on the rooftop of the building where the meeting was being held. He pulled a pack of cigarettes from his pocket and lit one.

"Well other than the fact that America is bloody missing," England pointed out, scowling at the other nation. He narrowed his emerald green eyes at France and leaned against the building's ledge with a sigh. "Something is terribly wrong, Francis."

France looked up at the sound of his human name. The other nations never used human names unless if it was a highly serious or intimate moment. "You really think so, mon cher?" He made a face that expressed how he felt about his human name being used in a situation like this.

"Don't even make that face at me," England snarled at him. "You know how serious this is." He took France's cigarette from his lips and took a deep drag of it before placing it back in its original position. "America could've been kidnapped for all we know!"

"Kidnapped by who?" the French nation scoffed, flicking the ashes off of the end of his cigarette. He nearly snorted at the idea of someone even attempting to kidnap the loud-mouthed younger nation. "Anyone who would kidnap America would just send him back within the next day. He's too obnoxious to keep."

England smacked France's arm. "Would you please be serious for five minutes?!" he shouted at him. "What if he was kidnapped by his own government?! You know he just got that new president, Barry Collins!"

France's lips curled in disgust at just the mention of America's new president. "I think you're just letting your mind wander a little too much, Arthur," he commented, using England's human name. "Have you tried contacting him lately?"

"No," England softly admitted. "I haven't talked to him since we had that fight about a month ago." He frowned, feeling guilty now that America was no longer there. "M-Maybe he's just sick today."

"You know that wouldn't be a good enough reason for America to miss a meeting," France stated as he finished his cigarette, crushing it under his foot to put it out. "Remember that time he came to the meeting when he was sick with only God knows what and got half of the world sick with it?"

England glared at France for bringing up that memory. "I was sick for weeks because of him," he grumbled. He sighed. "But I have no idea where he would be then, unless if Barry Collins kidnapped him."

"How could Barry Collins kidnap him?" France scoffed. "That sounds highly unlikely. No leaders can kidnap their own nations. No leaders are truly that evil."

"Wait a minute," England mumbled. He had just remembered that there had been a travel ban made in America for not just certain countries, but all countries. "Maybe America really is being held captive! This meeting is being held in Berlin!"

"Non merde," France sighed. "Where are you getting with this?"

An emerald glare was shot at the French nation before England continued. "Well, America just recently had a travel ban to all countries of the world put up, including Canada. Do you think that means it applies to him as well? If he leaves his own country, he would never be allowed back in?"

France's blue eyes widened. "You just might be onto something, England! We need to find Canada and ask him what's going on!"

England sighed. "I was afraid you were going to say that…"

.

Canada remained sitting quietly in the meeting as it came to a close and all of the nations began to talk amongst themselves. He listened to snippets of conversation as the all began to ask each other what could have possibly happened to America. His head immediately sank lower and lower, hoping not to be noticed by anyone as he held Kumajiro tighter to him, as if using the baby bear for a shield of some sort.

"You seem to be hiding something, da?" a voice with a thick Russian accent asked him as the man approached him.

The younger nation slowly looked up to see Russia towering over him. "Hello, Russia," he greeted. "And I'm not hiding anything. In fact, I was just about to leave." He made to stand up, but Russia put his hands on his shoulders, keeping him in his chair. "What is it?"

"I just have some questions that need answering before you go," Russia said, smiling widely. "Don't worry, Canada. It will only take a minute, and then you can be on your merry way." He laughed a small, innocent laugh that sent slight chills through the younger nation, who was growing more and more nervous by the second.

Canada didn't like where this was going. "What kind of questions?" he softly asked, trying to keep his voice from shaking.

Suddenly, France and England were by Russia's side as well. They seemed to have been on the rooftop, both having windswept hair and smelling of cigarette smoke. Both looked surprised to see Russia as well.

"Canada, we need to talk to you about something," England quickly said. "It's about your brother."

"Hey, I was here first," Russia simply said, looking over at England. "You may speak to him when I'm done." Leaving no room for complaint from either European nation, he turned back to Canada with a smile on his face. "What a coincidence. I want to talk about your brother as well."

"What about him?" Canada asked, looking back down at his bear. You can do this, he told himself. Just pretend that you know nothing. No matter how hard they push you, you know nothing.

"Would you happen to know where he is?" Russia asked. "I have some important matters that need to be discussed with him. And don't try to tell me he's sick, because I know he shows up sick to meetings."

Canada gulped and shook his head, refusing to look up. "I-I'm sorry, but I don't know where he is."

"You are a terrible liar," the Russian country answered, tone growing darker. "I think you should tell me where he is and how I can find him."

England didn't like where the conversation was going and quickly stepped in. "That's enough, Russia. Don't scare him like that!" He knelt in front of Canada and put a hand on his shoulder. "Canada, we're only asking because we're concerned for America's safety. Do you know where he is?" He made sure to use softer tones, like he did when Canada was a child.

Canada remained in his stance, a blank gaze in his eyes as he stared down at his bear. He couldn't tell them. America had trusted him not to tell. There was no way he could break that confidence. Then again, what if there was something the other nations could do to help his brother? Would it be okay to tell if that was the case?

France knelt down in front of Canada as well. "We know you know something, Canada," he gently told him. "All we want is to help America. Something must be terribly wrong for him to not be at this meeting, no? Now, why isn't America here?"

Don't tell them, Matthew, Canada told himself. They can't do anything to help him. They can't! America's on his own. Not even you can help him. Don't tell them!

"Matthew, we are your family," England reminded. "If you can't tell us so that we can help, who can you tell?" He sighed. "Now, we're only going to ask one more time. Why isn't America at this meeting?"

That was what finally did it for Canada. England did have a point. If he couldn't tell them, then who could he really tell? They were family. France and England had worked hard to raise him and America together. If anyone could help, wouldn't it be them? Then again, Russia was right there…

Russia was listening intently. He didn't understand why they were being so soft and gentle with Canada. That wasn't really the fastest way to get answers out of anyone, but it seemed to be working for the young nation, so he let it go. If it was a way to get America's situation out of the bag, then so be it.

He looked around to see that this had caught the attention of some of the other nations as well; nations like Spain, Germany, Prussia, Hungary, Japan, Italy, and Denmark. Russia knew they were listening in as well. He wondered if they were going to start thinking of strategies to help America as soon as it was revealed where he was.

Canada finally raised his head and looked from France to England before growling out only one word. "Collins."


	2. Chapter 2

Canada stood on the border line of his country and America's. He and his brother had been meeting there in secret as of late. It scared him to know that he had to tell America that he had told some of the nations what had happened, but he knew he had no choice. All he could hope was that his brother wouldn't kill him. He watched, heart pounding, as his brother approached.

"Canada!" America cheerfully greeted. "How was the meeting? Wish I could've been there, but you know…" His voice trailed off as he looked down at his feet. "Was everyone wondering where I was?" He looked up at his brother as Canada nodded. "You didn't tell them anything, did you?" His eyes widened when he saw the expression on his brother's face. "Wait a sec, you didn't tell them anything, did you?"

"Well France, England, and Russia cornered me, and…"

"Dammit, Matt!" America suddenly yelled. "I trusted you!" He gripped at his blond hair with both hands. "I bet the whole world knows by now! You know, you really piss me off sometimes!" His hands balled into fists. "What all did you tell them?" he asked a few moments later after calming down.

Canada took a deep breath. He understood America's anger, but if he kept yelling like that, they were sure to be caught by someone. "I told them that you can't leave because of the travel ban."

"But you didn't tell them about the no communication rule?" America asked. He breathed a sigh of relief when his brother shook his head. "Well thanks for that at least." America groaned, putting his hands behind his head. "This is going to be a long four years. I can just feel it."

"Isn't there a way to get rid of your president?" Canada hopefully asked. He hated seeing his brother like this and wanted Collins gone just as badly as America did.

America sadly shook his head. "Unfortunately, there really isn't, unless if he's impeached or assassinated. And don't get any ideas." He sighed. "I hate being closed off like this, Matthew. I don't know how much longer I can take it."

"We'll help you," Canada told him, reaching a hand out to him. "I know that we will be able to help somehow. With the help of other nations, we can get you out of this."

"No," America stated, shaking his head. "Collins might declare war, and I don't want that. Please. We need to keep our people safe, and I can't guarantee the safety of all of our people if that were to happen. It's only four years, Matthew."

"Four years too many," the other brother gloomily answered. He frowned and then pulled his brother into a hug. "I'm going to miss you, Alfred."

America let himself be pulled into the hug as he hugged the other nation back. "The same can be said for you as well. But it will go by quickly, Matthew. Just look at it that way. We just have to look out for the safety of our people first." He kissed the top of his brother's head in a comforting way. "Let's meet here every Monday at sundown."

Canada nodded. "Yes, that's a great idea." He clung tightly to his brother, fearing for his safety. "Please be careful, America. And always remember that there are many nations who are willing to help you if you just say the word."

"I'll be fine," America assured. "I mean, how bad could it get?"

.

Washington, D.C.

Barry Collins looked up as America walked into the Oval Office the next day. His piercing, green eyes bore into the young nation as he took his seat in one of the chairs. "Where were you last night?" he asked.

"I wasn't feeling well," America answered with a shrug, "so I was resting at home in Montana. I hopped on a plane the moment I was summoned here." He hoped that Collins wouldn't ask any further.

Although what America had told him hadn't been false information. It just wasn't entirely true. America hadn't been feeling well at all ever since Collins had been elected president. And after he had gotten done talking with Canada, he went to his house in Montana and rested until he got a call on his cell phone, demanding that he go to the white house at his earliest convenience. He knew exactly what it was about.

"And you're sure you're not doing anything behind my back?" the president asked him, giving him a disapproving father look.

"What? Are you going to check my phone or something? You'll see that the last text I sent to another nation was before you were elected. It was to England, telling him that he sucks. If you don't believe me, I guess I can show you, even though that's an invasion of my privacy." America crossed his arms over his chest. He felt as if he were being treated like a child. He was a fucking nation, for Christ's sake! He was America at that!

"That won't be necessary," Collins stiffly stated. "But I would appreciate it if you would stop acting like a child that I would need to be taking care of."

"And what's that supposed to mean?" America demanded.

Collins's gaze bore into America. "I know you met up with your brother last night. Someone saw you last night and reported it to me."

"So now you have people following me?!" America demanded.

"You stay away from that Canadian border, Alfred Jones," Collins warned, pointing at him. "I don't want to have to treat you like the kid you look like."

"I'm not a kid!" America snarled at him. "I'm older than you are." He knew that arguing with his president was going to get him nowhere, but he didn't really know what else to do. He was so angry that there were now people spying on him. "Why do you have people spying on me anyway?"

"It has come to my attention that you cannot be trusted," Collins simply stated, turning back to his paperwork on his desk. "I'm only taking the proper measures for this situation."

America looked away from him. "This is not cool," he grumbled.

"I don't care about being 'cool'," Collins stated. "I care about keeping our people safe, Alfred."

"You mean by imprisoning them in our country? Yeah, that's keeping them really safe. Riots are so fun, President Collins." The young nation blew his bangs out of his face and took off his glasses to clean them, and partially to make the president blurry for a few moments. He could barely stand the sight of Collins anymore, and it was only mid-March of the first year of his presidency.

"You tend to find them fun, from what I'm told," the president commented. "Don't think I haven't seen you in the crowds in the footage."

"It's called crowd control. I worry about the safety of my people. And it wouldn't be happening if you weren't such a dick." America immediately clamped his mouth shut, knowing he had gone too far. Though he had always wanted to call Collins that to his face, he was straight-up shocked that he actually had disrespected his own president, no matter how much he didn't like him.

"It's good to know how you really feel," Collins bitterly stated. "I think it's best that you sit in here for the rest of the afternoon. Someone needs to keep an eye on you to make sure you don't rile up the crowds against me. And now that I know your true feelings on me, I know that you are a force who cannot be trusted. Consider yourself under surveillance until you prove that I can trust you."

America's mind immediately went to Canada. How was he supposed to meet with his brother when under surveillance. "That's illegal, you know," he countered. "You can't do this!"

"I can, and I will." The president cleared his throat and began to fill out more paperwork. "Until you can learn to behave yourself, consider yourself under my control."

.

Canada felt that something was wrong the next Monday when America didn't show up. France and England had even tagged along and hidden behind trees. The Canadian nation waited for nearly two hours before finally giving up and turning back to the other two nations. "He's not coming," he softly stated. "He must have gotten found out. I think something happened."

"I don't like this new leader of his," England commented. "Perhaps my royal family could do something about him."

"We're too close to American soil to discuss this," Canada stage-whispered to them. "If they hear us plotting, that won't do America any good at all! Now let's get back to my house and talk there!" He turned on his heel and broke into a rapid sprint back to the cabin that was nearly a mile away from where they currently were.

Once back at the cabin, all hell broke loose. England was fuming, Canada was panicking, and France was smoking next to the window as if it had gone out of style. They all knew something had happened to America, but they didn't know exactly what, and it stressed them all out. The only thing they could all agree upon at the moment was that they needed a rescue plan for America, and fast.

"Too bad none of us are really any good at strategies," Canada sighed, hugging his bear close for comfort.

"I resent that, you know," England argued back. "At least I'm better at strategizing than France."

"Take that back!" France snapped, pounding his fist on the table.

Canada groaned, caught in the middle of it all. "We will never get anywhere if things keep happening this way!" he said, raising his voice. "Who do we know who is good with strategy and won't hold it over our heads to ask them for help?" He clutched at his head and began to pull at his hair. All he wanted was his brother back, even if America could be a prick at times. "My brain feels dead at the moment because of all of the stress of this."

France began to hum as he pondered, causing England to grumble at him, but he didn't stop. "I've got it. Why don't we ask one of his friends? Like Prussia or Denmark?"

"I don't think nations like Prussia or Denmark are organized enough to storm the United States of America on a rescue mission," England sighed. "And besides, we need someone they would least expect. Who is the nation that the American government has the most tension with right now?"

Canada thought for a moment. He knew who it was, but he didn't want to say, knowing that the certain nation and America themselves didn't always see eye-to-eye. A pair of bright blue eyes and a pair of emerald eyes rested on him, expecting the answer they knew he had. He knew America's issues better than any other nation, being so close to him and all.

"Russia," Canada finally answered. "The one they struggle with the most is Russia." He sighed. "But how will we ever get him to agree to help us?"

England and France both shuddered as England said, "I'm not going to be the one to ask him to help. He gives me chills whenever he looks at me. There's just some kind of aura that he gives off."

"Well don't look at me," France quickly said. "I'm always the one who has to do these things." He smiled sweetly at the young nation he had helped raise. "How about you do it, Canada? He seems to like you the best out of the three of us."

"Me?" Canada asked, blinking in surprise. "I-I don't know. I'm not that great with conversation…"

"Think of it this way," England said. "You are your brother's last hope. What all are you willing to do to help him?"

When put that way, how could Canada say no? He needed his brother in his life, so he knew he had to face his fear of the taller nation and ask Russia for his help. His heart pounded at just the thought of it. He was terrified.

"I'll do it," Canada finally said. "I will contact Russia and ask for his help."

"Don't just contact him," France stated. "Show him you're serious. Go to him and ask for his help. Cry if you need to. Show him just how much we need his help."

"We?" Canada asked. "Oh, please. I'm the one doing this." He sighed. "But I'll do it. I'll leave tonight for Moscow."

Though he was internally terrified, Canada was willing to sacrifice anything for his brother. After all, who knew what sorts of things America was going through. For all they knew, he could be imprisoned in the Oval Office. Little did they know that they weren't too far from the truth with that guess.


	3. Chapter 3

Day 8

Today, Collins told me that my behavior has become more suitable for a superpower nation. Whatever the fuck that's supposed to mean. I hope that means I can leave the sight of him and his goons soon. I miss my brother. He was the only nation who would sneak around to see me when I needed him, and now he's gone. I don't know what I'm going to do if I don't have contact with the others like me soon. I feel like I'm going crazy sitting in the Oval Office all day every day. Something needs to be done, and it needs to be done fast.

America snapped his journal shut and sighed as Collins looked up from the sudden noise. He glared over at the president and frowned. Though he knew he could overpower the man at the desk, he knew how terrible that would look on his image as a nation. And besides, that would be breaking the one rule every nation swore upon at the beginning of their nationhood.

That one rule was that they would not harm their leaders or the leaders of any other nation, no matter what the leader may do. Then again, that rule had been made hundreds to thousands of years before, since time had begun. Couldn't they just break it already? Especially in a time this desperate?

Trying to make as much noise as possible, America switched positions in his chair. He was glad that the president at least had a more comfortable chair brought in for him instead of some old, rickety wooden chair. America would've made a huge fuss otherwise, and Collins knew that.

Collins looked up from his paperwork and shot America a look that was the equivalent to daggers. "Do you mind?" he asked. "I am quite busy with some paperwork."

"Oh, I don't mind at all," the nation simply answered. "I quite enjoy being held captive by my own leader. It brings such joy to my heart to be able to spend so much quality time with you. Why didn't you think of this before?" Every word coming out of his mouth was dripping with sarcasm, and he didn't care anymore. To him, consequences meant nothing. He was America, Alfred Freedom Jones. Too bad there wasn't any freedom to speak of anymore.

"I would appreciate it if you would stop," Collins sighed, eyes returning to his paperwork.

"And I would appreciate it if I didn't have to sit here anymore," America shot back. "My middle name is Freedom for a reason, Mr. President! Now give it back!"

"We have been over this multiple times," Collins groaned. "You know why I can't do that. Alfred, the company you keep isn't exactly the best for your country. You need to start thinking of your people and what's best for them. That's what I'm doing by doing this, because you obviously don't care about your people anymore."

"Bullshit!" America shouted, standing up. "What makes you say that?!"

"If you really cared about your people, you wouldn't be fraternizing with other nations the way you do," the president said, gaze on America unwavering. "You would be more careful with the way you speak with Russia and China. Don't think I don't know about the arguments you get into at world meetings. Why else do you think I put up that travel ban?"

"You said that was to keep the terrorists out!" America's mouth fell open as he sat there, dumbfounded with shock.

"No, Alfred," Collins told him, an evil smile on his face. "It was to keep you in."

.

Canada took a deep breath as he stepped into the airport in Moscow, Russia. He hoped that he was in the right place. Russia had said Moscow, right? He quickly pulled out his phone and checked the email just to make sure, breathing a sigh of relief when he realized that he was right. At least he had gotten one thing right on the first try that day.

He craned his neck to look for the tall nation, hoping that he was on time to pick him up. Knowing Russia, he was there early to make sure that he was there on time to pick up his friend. Russia was always considerate like that, no matter how scary and intimidating he may seem.

Sure enough, there was Russia, patiently waiting as he tapped his foot along to the music playing through the earbuds in his ears. He must've been there for awhile if he was listening to music that intensely. Canada could only hope that Russia wasn't irritable for waiting for so long.

"Canada!" Russia cheerfully greeted when he walked over, pulling the younger nation into a hug that he couldn't refuse. "How was your flight? I hope it wasn't too bad!"

The smaller nation struggled to find his words. "No, not at all," he finally said, voice coming out as more of a mumble than anything.

"You're going to have to speak up if you want to be heard," Russia told him. "The airport is a pretty loud place, friend!" He smiled a bright, cheery smile that chilled Canada to the bone.

Hold yourself together, Canada told himself. Russia isn't that scary. You can do this. You're doing this for your brother. Just remember that. "I came to ask you a favor."

"And what kind of favor would that be?" the tall nation asked, leading the way out of the airport and to a waiting car. He opened the door for Canada, who climbed in, sliding over so Russia could get in on the same side. "I hope you're not up to something too illegal, my friend."

Canada's eyes widened. "Il-Illegal?" he stammered. "No way." He shook his head quickly. "Y-You've got it all wrong, Russia."

"Do I?" the other nation asked. He smiled mischievously. "We both know why you're here, Matthew. You're here because you need my help to save your brother, da?" His smile grew wider when his eyes rested on Canada's look of pure astonishment. "Now, the real question is, why did you choose to come to me about it instead of someone else who is closer to your brother than I am? In case you haven't noticed, America and I aren't exactly the best of friends."

"That's exactly why I am asking you," Canada answered, struggling to find his full confidence. "You see, France, England, and I figured that it would be best to find a nation that he's having tension with right now to help us come up with a plan to help him. That way, their friendship won't get in the way of the rescue. And it will be someone that they won't be expecting."

"I like how you think," Russia stated. His mind was already formulating many different plans. "I'm sure I can think of something if given some time. Do you think America will be safe for about another week longer?"

"He seems to be safe," Canada said with a nod. "It's just that we think he's under something similar to house arrest. We were thinking that maybe he has to spend every day with Collins or something."

Russia chuckled. "Don't make me laugh. That just sound ridiculous. What kind of a president would put themselves through sitting with your brother all day every day like that?"

Now that he thought about it, Canada's worries about America being trapped in the Oval Office did sound a bit ridiculous to him. He laughed a little nervously with Russia. "I suppose you're right about that," he admitted. "No one in their right mind would want to be trapped with my brother for that long…" Though deep down, he was still worried that something bad might have happened to America. It sucked being on the outside and unable to even look in.

"Don't worry about him, Canada," the other nation advised. "I'm sure he's fine. America is always bragging about how he can handle so many things on his own. I'm sure he can handle this 'imprisonment' just a little bit longer. Just long enough for me to think of a plan."

"So you'll do it?" Canada asked, struggling to keep the excitement from his voice.

"Of course I will!" Russia said, wide smile reappearing on his face. "It's because my friend asked me to, and I would never tell a friend no when they're so desperate!"

"Heh, thanks," the younger nation sighed. He looked out the window as the car stopped. "I see we've made it to your house."

"And I can see that you're tired. I asked Latvia to prepare a bed for you." Russia opened the door and got out of the car. "The jet lag must be killing you. Why don't you get some rest, Canada?"

"That actually sounds wonderful. Thank you, Russia," he answered, grateful that the other nation had been so thoughtful. After he was shown his room, he was out like a light the moment his head hit the pillow.

.

Russia sat in the sitting room of his home, pondering what to do about America. Sure, they didn't get along, but it wasn't as if they were best friends either. It was some weird middle-ground with a lot of awkward tension that Russia didn't exactly understand. There were times that he wanted to crush that loud American's windpipe, but then there were times that he just wanted to take him in his arms and just give him all the love in the world. And those times would come back-to-back, almost like some sort of vicious cycle. He didn't like it one bit. If there was a situation that Russia couldn't sort his feelings out on, he would just forget about it, yet why couldn't he just forget about this one?

Oh, that's right. Because he was supposed to rescue America. But what would America do if he saw that it was him coming to his rescue instead of England or someone like that? Russia knew that America didn't like him all that much, but he couldn't help but wish that they got along better for some reason.

Now for a plan. How was he going to sneak into a country that didn't allow anyone from any other country inside? He knew that if he were to enter America, the country would know immediately. All nations could sense when another nation had crossed their borders, and they always knew exactly which nation it was as well. The thing was, how could he sneak into America without surprising him enough to have him tip off whoever he was with? That was going to be the tricky part.

Russia leaned back and sighed. This was going to be harder than he thought. He could just see America jumping up in front of his president and exclaiming, "Oh, my God! What is Russia doing here?!" Why had Canada come to him again?

At least there was one blessing to the sense of nations knowing another nation was in their borders. They never knew exactly where the other nation was. If something like what he had imagined were to happen, there were plenty of places in the States for him to hide. All he needed to do was work on his American accent. No big deal.

He held his head in his hands as he thought. What a hassle. Was it really going to be worth it in the end? Was it really worth it to get America back at the meetings?

Why was he even thinking such things? Of course it was! Russia had seen how desperate and distraught Canada had been when talking about his brother! America needed his freedom back, and Russia was going to have to be the one to help him. He had no choice but to be. After all, who else would be able to help if not him?

He smiled as the perfect plan suddenly came to his mind. Sure, it may not be the most perfect plan, but it was the only thing he could really think of. Russia knew he was going to be risking a lot, but if it would get America back, then it would be worth it.

Russia ran to Canada's guest room to tell him and saw the sleeping nation out cold on the bed. He smiled to himself when he saw how much Canada looked like America when sleeping. His mind sure thought weird things sometimes. He decided to save his idea for a when Canada woke up, hoping that the other nation would approve. If he didn't approve, then there may not be hope.

.

America sat in the Oval Office two days later, still sulking over the truth about the travel ban. He was still so furious with Collins. He just couldn't believe that his own leader would lie to him like that. Though Collins tried to assure him that he was only worried about the safety of his citizens, America was convinced that there were ulterior motives behind the travel ban. He just couldn't figure it out yet. Maybe if he listened in to Collins's conversations, he could figure out what all of it was about.

So far, from what he could tell, Collins had fairly normal conversations, unless if he were talking in code to people. And that very well could be. Maybe "lunch at 11:45 sounds great" was code for "yes, we should torture our country more". As far as he knew, it could be code for anything!

Was he becoming paranoid? That very well could be as well. America tended to jump at every small sound. Collins had sneezed that morning and America had exclaimed, "What the fuck?!" before attempting to cover it up with a "Bless you," after a stern look from both the president and the members of the Secret Service.

Things were starting to look pretty grim for America as each day passed in the Oval Office. And with each passing day, he began to lose more and more hope. Was this his leader's way of lowering his morale, cutting off all of his ties with the rest of the world? Well, it was working pretty damn well. Everything seemed hopeless for him.

Suddenly a jolt went through America, causing him to flinch. A nation had just entered his country. His blue eyes widened behind his glasses when he realized who the nation was. No. There was no way that nation would come to his rescue like that. He must be here to spy or something. That was just great. Should he tell Collins?

"Is something wrong over there?" Collins asked him in an annoyed tone.

America looked over at his president, a wave of annoyance and hatred for the man washing over him at the sight of his face. "No," he said. "Just got a cold chill. Turn up the heat, will ya? It's freezing in here."

Collins rolled his eyes and muttered something about an ungrateful brat before turning back to the papers on his desk.

The young nation stared down into his lap, wishing he could grab his phone and text the nation, asking what he was doing there, but that would cause trouble. But seriously. Russia?


	4. Chapter 4

Russia walked through a field in northern Minnesota, feeling the wind whipping at his face. He hated how bitter and biting the wind was on his tender skin, already feeling it going numb. He was pretty certain that his skin was already starting to turn red. His hand reached up to pull his scarf up a little higher to cover up half of his face. Just why had he agreed to this again?

His phone went off with a text from Canada: hey thanks again for helping us! you are seriously the best! -canada :) Oh right, that was why. Russia pocketed his phone and went back to what he was doing. All he could do at that moment was internally hope that America hadn't alerted his president or government of the fact that he was there.

"Damn you, America," he quietly grumbled to himself. "Why did you have to get yourself kidnapped in the middle of the fucking winter?" He pulled his coat in tighter around himself as he trudged along in the field. At least there wasn't any snow so far to slow him down.

.

Meanwhile, America sat quietly in the Oval Office, trying to make sense of it all. Why was Russia here in his country? Of all nations, why was it Russia? Was he here to attack him? If so, wouldn't he be there right now? America knew for sure that Russia wasn't there on holiday. What was he planning then?

"You've been pretty quiet for the past hour or so," Collins commented from his desk. "Is something on your mind, Jones? Care to share?"

"Just wondering why you're such an asshole is all," America casually answered. He waved his hand in a careless gesture toward his president and carried on with his thinking. Ever since the president revealed his true intentions with the travel ban, he had been nothing but harsh toward the man. "And you know, I still haven't figured it out. Weird, huh? It's almost as if you're just one because you're a fucking sadist. Tell me, does it get you off or something?"

"We're not having this conversation again," Collins ground out. "Now please return to your silence. It was much more preferred."

At that, a smirk appeared on the young nation's face. "Oh, so my silence is preferred, eh?" he asked. "Then how about I just talk the day away?"

"You will not," the president answered. "If I have to duct tape your mouth shut, I swear to God, I will do it, Alfred." He pointed his pen at America as a warning. "Do not tempt me, Jones. You will not like me."

"Well I already don't like you, so…." America began.

Collins glared at him. "You had better quit while you're ahead," he threatened. "You won't like me when I'm angry."

"Again, I already don't like you."

"Good thing I'm not here to be liked," the president stated. "I'm here to be your leader. And you're going to be stuck with me for the next four years, so get used to it."

"I won't be if you get assassinated or impeached," America simply stated, inspecting his nails.

"You'd like that, wouldn't you?"

"Yeah, I would." The young nation looked up at the fuming man behind the desk. "And don't ever think that I would do anything to save your ass. I've saved many of my presidents before, but I wouldn't ever even think to lift a finger to save you, Barry. Always remember that."

"That's President Collins to you," he growled at America.

"I will call you what I damn well please." America's blue eyes bore into the man. "In case you forgot, I happen to be the nation who provides you with your stupid, little job of presidency. I've known you since you were a little kid that was being bullied around by the kids in your kindergarten class. What was that name they used to call you?"

"Stop it," Collins snarled at him.

"Oh, that's right, Cherry Barry," America taunted with a large smirk. "Because you were the most feminine and innocent boy in your class. Such a little cherry boy." He ignored the dagger-like glares coming from Collins. "But now look at you, the most corrupt bastard to currently live in America."

"Either you shut up now, or I will shut you up," Collins threatened. "Make your choice."

"You see, Barry, I know everything about you," America answered. "Even those little things that you think no one else knows. It's because you grew up on my land. I know everything there is to know about everyone on my soil. Not one thing happens here that I don't know about. That's why you went to another country to come up with the travel ban, isn't it?"

Collins narrowed his eyes at the nation. "You're too smart for your own good, Jones."

"Wait until I get going," America snarled at him. "But you underestimate me, Collins. And you underestimate those like me."

"What do you mean by that?"

"You can't shut out the rest of the world, and you can't keep me away from it. The longer I'm gone, the bigger the attack will be," America answered. "And they will come at you, full force."

The look on Collins's face at America's bluff was enough to keep the nation satisfied for the next four hours.

.

Canada sat back on his couch with France and curled into the French nation's side, frowning. He had a bad feeling about sending Russia over to America to rescue his brother. It was almost as if he could sense something bad would happen. The two could barely ever get along at a meeting, surrounded by people. Canada didn't want to imagine what it would be like to have the two of them alone with one's safety depending on the other.

"You feeling okay?" France asked Canada, putting an arm around him. His fingers tangled into the younger nation's hair in a comforting way. "Are you just nervous about Russia and America? I'm sure things will go smoothly. Russia knows what he's doing, Canada. Everything is going to be okay." He placed a reassuring kiss on top of the young Canadian nation's head. "Try not to worry too much. America is in good hands. We have the world's greatest strategist going after him."

"As reassuring as your words are, you have to remember that this is America we're talking about," Canada sighed, curling up closer to France in his distress. "He hates accepting help from others. I doubt he'll come quietly."

"He will if it's Russia," England scoffed. "Russia has already told me his plans if America doesn't cooperate. Trust me, it will all work out just fine." He rolled his eyes, even though he was nearly sick with worry for America. England found himself curling up against the other side of France. "Let's hope Russia can do this."

"What? You doubt him?" France asked with a smirk. "I don't doubt Russia at all. I believe that he can do it. After all, if he can't, then who can?"

There was a moment of silence as they all took in France's words. He did have a point. If Russia couldn't do it, who really could? For Canada, it was a moment of terror, not wanting to think of what would happen if Russia were to fail. For France, it was a moment of reflection, wondering how he could help America after he was rescued to make sure it could never happen again. And for England, it was a moment of sadness, thinking about the final words he had shared with the nation who was now imprisoned on his own land. "I hope Collins does to you what you deserve!" America didn't deserve this…

.

Russia walked out of a small, abandoned barn in the middle of nowhere, dressed in what appeared to be casual winter clothing from America. His coat and boots had been left behind in the barn and replaced with a trendy winter coat, a hat, some gloves, and a pair of cheap boots bought at a local secondhand store. If he was going to be in America, he needed to look the part. Though he couldn't bring himself to part with his scarf and wore it under the coat. It was too precious to him to be left behind in an old barn in the middle of nowhere.

He shivered, finding his old coat much warmer. America really owed him for this. His arms wrapped around him as he rubbed them to stay warm. Now, all he needed was to walk to the nearest town and get a cab to the nearest city. He had a flight to catch out to DC. And when he got there, it wasn't going to be pretty. After all, when a nation's leader kidnapped their own nation, things never ended well.

His breath came out in small puffs of smoke as he walked along the road. There was a sign that said the next town was two miles away. That far? He shivered and continued his walk, hoping that the movement would warm him up soon.

.

America still felt Russia's presence when it came time to leave the Oval Office that night. He wondered what the other nation was doing there. It was plaguing his mind. What was going on? He wished there was some way he could contact him to see what was up without Collins getting suspicious, but there wasn't. Part of him just wanted to ask if he could text Canada and just use the emergency code that all nations used.

"Collins," America said, looking up at him. "Can I shoot my brother a text?"

"Only if I can look at what you're sending, and the reply," the president stiffly answered.

"Really?" the nation asked, eyebrows shooting up in surprise. "Sure, man! Come sit down. I just really miss him is all." His thumbs began to tap out the message on his phone as he spoke. "I'll tell him all is well so he doesn't get suspicious."

The text read: hey, it's your brother. i wanted to let you know that i'm well. tonight i will be going home and drinking a white russian in memory of you.

"White Russians were our favorite drinks whenever we used to go and visit our brother England," America explained to Collins. "Canada liked them because they got him tipsy pretty fast, but I just liked the idea of milk and alcohol." He laughed to himself. "It's such a weird combination."

The real reason was that he was letting Canada know that he knew Russia was in the country. "White Russian" was their key word for Russia. But if America hadn't made up some bullshit story as to why he was texting Canada that, then the cover would've been blown.

Collins nodded as America's phone buzzed with a text from Canada: it's good to hear that you're safe! and don't drink too much tonight! also, a white russian is so much better with maple syrup! i can send some if you'd like!

The nation's heart skipped a beat. So it was Canada who had sent Russia! But why? He quickly tapped out a reply: no thanks, maple syrup will drown out the milk. thanks for your suggestion, though. anyway, time for me to go drink! take care bro!

Collins looked up. "Are you finished?"

"Yes," America said, putting his phone in his pocket. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have some milk to go and buy." He got up and headed toward the door. "Also, I have a question. How much longer am I going to be put on restriction? Because as much as I absolutely love spending quality time with you, I have other duties as a nation."

The president sighed. "How about one more day?"

"Sweet!" America shouted, pumping his fist into the air. "That's awesome! Thanks, Collins!" He ran for the door and grabbed the arm of the Secret Service agent who would be going back to his hotel room with him that night. "Hear that, Frank? I'm getting off restriction tomorrow! This calls for a celebration! White Russians and cake tonight!"

The agent looked to the president, who was pinching the bridge of his nose, and shrugged. "Let's just get out of here, Mr. Jones."

America grinned widely at the agent and dragged him from the Oval Office, leaving Collins in there alone to think to himself.

"White Russians, huh?" Collins muttered to himself. "That kid is the strangest thing I have ever come across in my life."


	5. Chapter 5

America swayed back and forth in his hotel room with the Secret Service agent, loudly belting out the national anthem for the sixth time that hour. He was pretending to be drunk, so he could get away with saying and doing random idiotic things, even though he was still able to think clearly after all of the White Russians he had drunk. After all, he was the United States of America! He had an extremely high alcohol tolerance!

"So Canada and I used to drink these together at England's house sometimes," America told the agent. "One time France caught us, and we got in so much trouble because we were just kids at the time." He laughed loudly, causing the agent to cringe. "Have you ever met another nation before?"

"Uh, no," the agent told him, looking slightly uncomfortable. "But if they're all like you, I'm not sure if I'd want to.

"I hear that a lot," America laughed. "They're actually all really nice, Frank! I actually come from a pretty high-class family of nations. France and England raised me and Canada, you know. They were the greatest parents I could ever ask for." He smiled, thinking back to his childhood with them. "My brother and I lived pretty happy lives with them, except I was more rebellious."

"I never would have guessed," Frank sarcastically commented.

"I caused England a lot of stress," America sighed. "I'm honestly surprised he doesn't have gray hair because of me. Then again, he doesn't look a day over twenty-three." He smiled to himself. "Just like I don't look much older than nineteen. That's why I have my fake ID to buy alcohol." America winked at Frank. "I'm honestly much older than nineteen. My birthday is July 4, 1776, after all."

"You know, if I didn't know about nations and all, I'd say you were full of shit," Frank admitted, taking a sip from a bottle of water.

The young nation laughed loudly. "I get that a lot from you guys!" He cheerfully flopped onto his bed there. "You know, my family was honestly the best! One time, England made dinner and…"

.

Russia yawned as he stepped off of his airplane. He had finally touched down in Washington, D.C. and he was ready to get to his hotel and go to bed. He checked the time inside of the airport. It was already midnight! He hated time zones so much. The jet lag was getting to him, and he needed to rest before going on a tour of the White House the next day.

He exited the airport and got into a cab to take him to the hotel nearest the White House. As he leaned his head back against the headrest, he knew that things were going to be okay, at least for the night. There was no telling what would happen the next day, though, but he needed to remain hopeful, for America's sake. It wasn't every day that you kidnapped a nation back into world custody…

Russia could still hear Canada's voice softly saying, "Thank you so much, Russia! You're seriously the best! There is no way I could ever thank you enough for this! If there is ever any way I could pay you back, please let me know!"

He thought about it, hard. What was a way for Canada to pay him back? As he thought more into it, he always thought Canada was kind of cute, if only he would get a haircut. And maybe if his eyes were a little bit of a lighter blue. And if he was a bit more muscular and toned.

Russia's eyes widened. He had just pictured Canada's appearance changing into America in his mind's eye! There was no way that could have just happened, right? There was no way he was doing this over a subconscious crush on America! Then again, if he didn't have a crush on one of them, then how did he agree so quickly? It wasn't like he normally gave two shits about them or their family. Was it true? Did he have even a hint of a crush on America?

.

The next morning, America walked into the Oval Office with a smile on his face. "Guess what, Barry! I'm getting out of here after today!" he cheered upon walking in. His wide grin could barely fit on his face.

Collins looked up from his paperwork. "Are you sure about that, Mr. Jones? All of that depends on how well you behave today." He smiled at America, but there was a hidden darkness in his smile that America couldn't quite place. "So how are you planning on spending your day?"

"Making no noise and pretending my life isn't as meaningless as it currently is," America snarkily responded. He cast a bitter smile over to his leader. "Doesn't that sound just wonderful, Collins?" America gave his president a sarcastic thumbs-up. "I promise I'll do my best at it! Let the self-loathing begin!"

"Mr. Jones, if you keep speaking in such a manner, I will extend your time in the Oval Office," Collins warned.

America clenched his fists. "You can't do that! A president has to be true to his word!"

"Honestly, America, when have I ever really been true to my word?" Collins asked him. "I only told the people of your country all of those things so they would vote for me. Do you really think I intend to follow through on them?"

"You're supposed to," the blond nation answered.

"But let's be real here. Do you honestly think I'll be holding up my end of the bargain? It's an old political trick. Just tell them what they want to hear. Don't you pay attention to anything?" Collins let out a low laugh. "America, you may be old and all, but you're still naïve. Just as naïve as the child you look like."

"I'm not a child!" America growled at him. "God, you're such a fucking dick, Collins!"

"You're coming back here tomorrow, America," the president stated, looking back down at his paperwork. "Do you have any more insults for me? I'd be happy to add more days onto your sentence."

The nation clenched his teeth and kept his silence. He threw himself into his usual chair and crossed his arms over his chest, pouting. If things continued this way, he was sure to be sentenced to the Oval Office for the next four years.

America closed his eyes and thought really hard. He could still sense Russia's presence. All he wished was the he could pinpoint where the other nation was. If he was careful about it, they could meet up in some way. But what he was wondering still was what Russia was even doing in his country in the first place, and why Canada had sent him.

.

Russia walked into the White House on a tour and looked around. He whistled low. What a beautiful building. He took in everything around him, wondering where America could be. Something told him that America was somewhere in that building, but where?

He sighed as he realized America was most likely in the Oval Office. That was the one place where the tour didn't go, out of safety for the president. What could he do now? He got out his phone and texted Canada to ask what to do.

As they texted back and forth, Russia soon realized that Canada wasn't going to be much help. He didn't know what he was going to do now. All he wanted was to get America and leave. He knew it wouldn't be that simple, but there was always that small hope in the back of his head. It was worth thinking about, he guessed. Just not worth hoping for, because that would take a miracle.

As the tour ended, Ivan frowned and left the White House grounds. He decided to wait outside of the White House and loiter around for the rest of the day, hoping to get even the slightest glimpse of America. By some sort of miracle, there would be a way that he could at least see the other nation and let him know he was there.

.

America walked out of the White House and frowned. He had gotten three days added to his time in the Oval Office. His eyes scanned the grounds outside as he got into the car with Frank. All he wanted was to get back to the hotel and soak in the public hot tub or something.

As they drove out, he saw a familiar-looking head of pale blond hair. Could it really be? Was Russia really outside of the White House? He rolled down the window, complaining of being hot. "Do we really have to go back to our hotel now?" he loudly asked, getting he attention of the Russian and making sure he could see him.

"Mr. Jones, I've told you a million times, we have to follow orders," Frank sighed. "Now will you please just cooperate tonight? I'll even let you go to the pool and spa area tonight."

"Fine, but just know that this all totally fucking sucks," America complained, rolling the window back up.

.

Russia couldn't believe it as he watched the black car pull away. He had seen America and even heard the other nation say that they were going back to the hotel. Quickly hailing a taxi, he asked the driver to follow the black car ahead of them.

His mind drifted off to his thoughts of America from the day before. Did he really have a crush on him? It was true that he had always thought of the younger nation as handsome. But he never thought that America could get his heart racing like that. It was just preposterous. How could someone like America get him to do things like this? He was breaking so many rules for him! It was insane!

They pulled up outside of the hotel, and Russia paid his fare before getting out. He stepped into the hotel just in time to see the elevator close on America. He had heard something about the pool, and he knew that they could have a secret conversation there with code words if they were careful enough. All he had to do was check in.

"Do you have any rooms available?" Russia asked, walking up to the front desk.

The woman at the desk smiled at him. "Of course, sir. Is it just you staying?" She began typing away at her computer and getting the information from the Russian. "Please enjoy your stay," she said a few minutes later, handing the room key over.

Russia smiled at her. "Thank you so much," he answered in the most American accent that he could muster. He accepted the room key and went up to the third floor with his bag that he had brought with him.

Luckily, he had packed some swim trunks. He quickly changed into them and headed down toward the pool area. All he could hope was that America would be down there as well. He just really wanted to see the other nation to either confirm or deny his crush on him. And as much as he was hopeful on it, he wanted the crush to be denied. There was no way he wanted to have a confirmed crush on that nation.

He opened to door to the pool and spa and found it completely empty. Sighing to himself, he got into the hot tub and soaked for a few minutes before the door opened once more.

His heart sped up in his chest when he saw America walk in with a man in a black suit. He took in America's typical "stars and stripes" trunks and smiled as the other nation walked toward him and got into the hot tub as well. All he wanted was for his heart to stop racing, though. It was just America. They've done things like this together before. Why would this be any different?

"Hey there, friend," America said to him. "It's nice to see a new face. What's your name?"

"My name is Dmitry Orlovsky," Russia answered with a small smile. He had to use a fake name, unsure of if the Secret Service knew other nation names or not. "It's a pleasure to meet you. Er, what's your name?"

"Oh, my name is Alfred F. Jones," America answered with a wink. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Dmitry." He sat back in the hot tub and sent Russia pleading messages with his eyes. "You have a slight accent. Where are you from?"

"My father and I moved here from Ukraine when I was ten," Russia lied with a smile. He hated having to deny his own country in front of another nation, but he knew he had to so he wouldn't give away his identity. "It's hard to lose an accent when you're growing up."

"You can say that again," America answered. He smiled and looked up at the man in the suit that accompanied him. "Please ignore my friend here. He's a very strange person. I'm slightly important. He's my bodyguard."

"Oh, so you're famous or something?" Russia asked with a smirk.

America chuckled. "Don't make me laugh."

Russia could already tell that it was going to be an entertaining conversation.


	6. Chapter 6

America knew that he would have to speak in code if he needed Russia to understand what was going on. He just didn't know exactly what to say. What would be a good way to start off all of this? How was he supposed to express what was going on? And also, how was he supposed to remember the emergency code he was taught for this situation. All nations were taught the code at young ages, but no nation had ever needed to use it until now.

"So what brings you to America?" he asked his "new-found" friend in the hot tub with him. He shot the Russian a wink, signaling that he was going to start using code, but to the Secret Service agent it probably just looked flirtatious.

"I am just here visiting my Aunt Greta," Russia answered with a small smile. "She has been ill for quite awhile, and I fear that her time will be up soon."

"I'm sorry to hear that," America sighed. "It's such a shame when things of that sort happen." He frowned and then smiled at his hot tub companion. "Say, have you ever visited the Statue of Liberty?" Please help me, I've been kidnapped by my government!

Russia shook his head in disbelief, making it look as if he were denying that he had ever been, though he truly had been multiple times. "Never," he softly answered. He was still trying to wrap his head around the fact that America, Alfred F. Jones, had been kidnapped by his own government. It was unfathomable. "Is it nice there?" Are you okay?

"It really depends on the weather, Dmitry," he answered. He stretched his arms across the back of the hot tub behind him. "Sometimes it's really nice and sunny, but when it rains it pours, you know?" Some days it's okay, but the bad days are just terrible.

"Perhaps one day you can show me the Statue of Liberty," Russia suggested with a small smile, forcing a slight blush into his cheeks to make himself seem flirtatious. I'm here to save you.

America's blue eyes widened with wonder as he smiled. "I think I'd like that," he answered. "That sounds nice." I'm ready when you are. Just say the word.

.

America went back to his hotel room after about fifteen more minutes of mindless babble with Russia about his made-up Aunt Greta. It was almost humorous to him, the realistic stories Russia could come up with about his fake aunt. The reason it was funny to America was because he had known Russia for hundreds of years, and knew for a fact that there was no Aunt Greta to speak of. All of the stories were made up off the top of Russia's head.

"So that guy was a weird one, wasn't he?" the agent asked America once they were in their room that night. "Then again, all people from that area are a little off."

America thought about the Baltics, Ukraine, Belarus, and then Russia, who had risked everything just to come save him. "I don't know what you mean," he simply stated. "I think they're pretty cool people if you ask me. Personally, I don't think you've ever met anyone from there. You've only seen what's been said on the news, and that's not very reliable. Shame on you, Frankie."

"It's Frank," the agent corrected.

"Respect your elders," America groaned at him. "How old am I again? I am your great nation. I own everything you see. You should probably show me more respect, Frankie."

Frank clenched his fists. "You're getting out of line again, Mr. Jones. Do you want this getting back to President Collins?"

"Why I'd be just delighted," America answered with glee. "You really want to rat on me, Frankie Boy? Or do you forget how powerful I am?" He looked over at the agent, his eyes clouding over with a darkness that the other had never seen in his life. It was something America had learned from Russia years before, an intimidation factor. "Think for a moment before you threaten me again, got that?"

Frank went silent, wondering if America was going to safe to talk to again or not. He was fearing for his life as he stood there, slightly trembling. He had never seen the young-looking nation so angry in his life. It was terrifying to have a nation angry with him, especially knowing that nations were like super-humans.

America looked back at Frank and laughed. "What do you look so scared for?" he asked. "You look as if you've seen a ghost. What's up with that?" He thought for a moment. "Hey, can I go and get some snacks from the vending machine?"

"I'll need to go with you," Frank stated.

The nation gestured to his face. "Does it look like I give two fucks as long as I get my candy?" he simply asked. He stared at Frank for a few moments before standing up. "Come on, buddy boy. Let's go get my candy! Who knows, maybe we'll run into that cute guy from the hot tub on the way?"

He thought about that for a moment as they left the hotel room. Since when did he think Russia was even attractive? Now Russia was suddenly cute to him? Then again, it wasn't as if Russia were exactly unattractive. Now that he thought more about it, Russia was one of the more attractive nations. But why was he thinking about that at that moment. There was candy to get!

America led the way down the hallway toward the vending machines. He stopped short when he saw Russia standing in front of one of the machines. "Hey, Dmitry!" he called out, waving his hands.

Frank slapped his hand down. "People are sleeping," he hissed at the nation.

America couldn't care less as he ran over to Russia. "What are you getting?" he asked, standing on his tip-toes so he could peek over the other's shoulder. "I didn't know you liked candy," he murmured into Russia's ear.

Russia felt goosebumps cover his flesh. America was so close to him at that moment. He almost couldn't take it. In that moment, all he wanted to do was take him and hold him and run away with him, but that was too risky to do. Instead, he nodded. "Da," he answered. "My favorite is Snickers."

"Dude, no way!" America exclaimed, eyes widening in excitement behind his glasses. "That's my favorite, too!" He leaned in closer to Russia, seeing as how Frank was still a little ways away, and murmured, "But I think you already knew that."

This time, Russia shivered. "Stop doing that," he muttered back. His hand reached behind him and grabbed America's, which was resting on his lower back in an almost suggestive way. "You're a bit handsy tonight, aren't you, Alfred?" he asked at normal volume, a large smile finding its way to his face. He felt weird calling America by his human name when it wasn't a serious or intimate moment, but he knew that he had to.

"It's only because you're just so irresistible, Dmitry," America answered with a wink.

Russia knew what that wink meant. It meant, Follow my lead. He could easily get just as flirtatious. And if this was a way into America's hotel room, then so be it. It wasn't like he wasn't' used to fooling around with other nations before, but this was America. This was one he had actual feelings for…

"So you think that?" Russia asked him, a slight hint of flirtation in his voice. He cast a violet glance over to Frank. "What does your friend think?"

"Who cares what he thinks?" America asked, resting a firm hand on Russia's hip. He gave the Russian's hips a quick squeeze. "This isn't about him, it's about us. I know you're stuck in America for the time being, so why not have some fun with me, huh?"

"F-Fun?" Russia stammered, still struggling to believe it himself that America could even be so sexy and irresistible. He was suddenly hit with a wave of self-confidence that he didn't even know he possessed. An arm suddenly reached out and slid around America's waist and pulled him in close as he said, "Give me an example of this fun you speak of, and I'll let you know if I'm interested."

America's eyes were wide. He didn't expect Russia to play along this well, but there was no backing down but that point. Besides, it had been so long since the last time he had gotten laid, and he really was curious as to what it would be like with Russia. His heart began to race in his chest as he asked, "An example?"

"Did I stutter?" Russia asked him, looking him dead in the eye.

The younger nation gulped. "No. You didn't." He then looped an arm around Russia's neck and pulled him into a heated kiss that took the breath right out of the two of them. America could feel all of his blood rushing through his body, and all he could think of was how amazing of a kisser Russia really was. And if he was that great of a kisser, America could only imagine what else the nation could do…

When the two finally broke apart, Russia smiled at America, feeling slightly lightheaded. He had never kissed the younger nation before, but he was definitely not disappointed. His heart was pounding, and he could definitely say that he was looking forward to what America had planned for inside the hotel room. All he could hope was that the young nation at least had a plan for something they could do to come up with a plan to save him.

"Would you like to join me back in my hotel room?" America asked with a wink. "I'm sure Frank wouldn't mind at all. After all, I'm in a suite and have my own bedroom." He licked his lips and gave Russia a look of longing.

After receiving that look, how could anyone say no to the devastatingly handsome and desirable American? Russia couldn't stop lusting after him by that point. He knew he had to keep a clear mind, though, if he wanted to save him. That's what his thoughts kept telling him. He had to be stronger then his desires, and damn were those desires strong!

"I would love to join you back in your hotel room," Russia answered. He smiled widely at America. "Just so long as we won't be breaking any rules now." It was then his turn to wink, and he did so in a way that caused America's face to turn a dark shade of red.

"Oh, we won't be," the younger nation answered. He then grabbed Russia's hand and began to lead him back to his suite, followed by a bewildered Frank. Apparently, it wasn't the first time America had picked up a random "stranger" in a hotel while with Secret Service, but it was the first time during his "grounding".

America ushered Russia to the bathroom. "Now you just get in the shower and I'll join you in a moment," he told the older nation, voice smooth as silk.

Russia turned back to him. "I'll be waiting, Alfred."

The younger nation felt his cheeks burn with blush once more as he exited the bathroom. He saw Frank out in the living room part on his phone, hysterically trying to explain to someone what was going on. "Hang up," America commanded. "What I'm doing is not something I can get in trouble for."

"But Mr. Jones, you are in enough trouble already, and…"

America placed a hand on Frank's upper thigh and gave it a firm squeeze. "Or would you rather be my fuck toy tonight, Frankie Boy?" he cooed at the Secret Service agent.

All of the color left Frank's face as he looked up at America. "Surely you can't be serious," he gasped out. "You wouldn't do something like that to me, would you?"

"Then let me have fun tonight," America told him. "I'm not doing anything wrong. It's been forever since I've gotten laid. Let me get some release, man. It's not good leaving it all built up inside of you, you know? Surely you can understand that, bro. Besides, it'll help me not to be so cranky tomorrow."

Frank thought it over. "Fine, but after you fuck him, he's leaving," he decided.

America waved his hand in dismissal. "Well duh," he laughed. "Did you think I was going to let him stay the whole night?" He walked back over to the bathroom. "You're the best, Frank!"

When America entered the bathroom once more, Russia was already in the shower with the water running. He gulped. This was the moment of truth for him, in a way. There was no way he could back down at this point. He was going to sleep with the other nation so as not to look suspicious. But they were also going to come up with a plan. He had to keep reminding himself of that plan. He was doing it for the plan.

Or was he really doing it for himself? He had been held back from fighting other nations before, and the nation holding him back was Russia, the only nation strong enough to be able to do so. And he liked the sense of security of being able to be held by him. It felt safe, secure, like nothing could ever harm him again.

He quickly undressed and pulled back the curtain, taking in the sight of what was behind it. His eyes had never seen a more beautiful nation when undressed. Sure, Russia had a few scars here and there, but the scars were what made him beautiful in a way.

America had seen nations like England and France naked before, and their bodies were pale and devoid of any scars. They were beautiful in their own ways, but Russia was different. His scars probably told stories, and oh, how he wished to hear them one day.

"Are you getting in or not, Alfred?" Russia asked him, smiling kindly. "I have some things I wish to discuss with you."

"Right," America chuckled, stepping into the tub where the shower was. "And I have some things I would like to discuss with you as well," he said before lowering his voice. "Russia."


	7. Chapter 7

Russia reached across America and grabbed a bar of soap, lathering it in his hands. "So what shall we discuss first, Alfred?" he asked, voice barely above a whisper. He began to rub the soap across his own broad shoulders, wanting to reach out and rub the American's shoulders, but he knew he had to resist.

America took a bold chance and tried to look Russia in the eye. He instantly looked away, too intimidated by the other nation to get a word out. He focused his eyes on Russia's finely toned abs instead, trying not to let his eyes wander lower. "W-Well there are many things I think we should discuss, b-but first…" His voice trailed off, his eyes wandering lower to see that both he and Russia shared mutual feelings on being naked together.

The Russian smiled at America. "What do you say we relieve some of this built up sexual tension and then we'll talk?" he suggested, gesturing to his hips.

The younger nation absently nodded. "Yeah, sure," he said, mind already gone. It had been gone since the moment he laid eyes on Russia's erect member. He was just about beside himself, impressed to see how well-endowed his companion really was.

America's mind was immediately ripped back to reality as Russia gently, yet firmly, grasped his erect length and began to pump it, using the water from the showerhead as a lubricant. The younger nation moaned slightly as he closed his eyes, taking in the pleasure. His arms moved on their own, wrapping around the Russian's shoulders as he pulled him into a heated kiss.

Russian didn't exactly understand why America would want to kiss him, but he was all for it as he pleasured the man he was currently attracted to. He didn't mind it in the slightest as his other arm wrapped around America's waist and pulled him even closer, closing off the space between them.

The American didn't seem to mind being pressed against Russia, for he moaned out, "Ivan," when their shafts rubbed against each other's. His eyes fluttered open as he reached down with one hand and began returning the favor to the Russian. He didn't like the fact that he was the only one receiving pleasure at the time.

Russia's eyes widened when the other nation's hand wrapped around his throbbing length. He hadn't been expecting for America to do the same back just yet. In all honesty, he hadn't been prepared for the American to take action just yet. It was so sudden that he let out a low moan, startling America.

America's eyes opened wide. "Ivan, was that you?" he asked, watching as the Russian's face turned a deep shade of red. His voice was low and husky as he said, "Please make more noises like that for me." He then pulled Russia in for another heated kiss with the arm that was still wrapped around his shoulders.

All embarrassment had left the Russian. Everything that was left was lust. He was lusting so hard after America that it wasn't even funny. His body was practically screaming for more of the American. All he wanted at that moment was to just take America and make him his. But he knew there would be time for that after the shower. That was why America had invited him to the room anyway. Or at least he hoped there would be.

Once the two of them had hit their climax and washed themselves off, they got out of the shower and dressed themselves in the robes that were so courteously left in the bathroom for guests. America then grabbed Russia's hand and led him from the bathroom and to his personal bedroom, parading him in front of Frank while doing so.

Russian chuckled quietly to himself once they got to the room. "I must say, Alfred, you've got quite a spiteful aura about you."

"Well, Dmitry, if you were in my situation, you would as well," America responded with a shrug. He then stripped off the bathrobe after locking the door. "Just so you know, Frank is probably spying on us. He likes to do that because he's a filthy pervert who's still in the closet." He winked at his companion, letting him know that they had to talk in code once more.

"Then we should make sure to be extra loud," Russia answered in a seductive tone. "If we have an audience, we might as well please him as well."

The American growled a deep, throaty growl at Russia. "I love the way you think," he responded, voice dripping with lust. He had no idea how fun Russia really could be. At world meetings, he had never seen this side of him, but he was really starting to like it. All he could do was hope that he wouldn't fall for him.

But not falling for Russia was a lot for America to ask of himself. He knew that he was going to if this all kept up the way it was going. There was only so long that he could hold himself back, and that time span was starting to wear thin. Yet while he knew that, he was the one causing it to wear thin. Did he want to fall in love with the Russian?

That itself was dangerous territory, considering how competitive the two were. But if they could settle their differences, they could be one of the most amazing couples the world had ever seen. Or at least that was how America saw it. He didn't know how the other country felt about it, but as they made out on the hotel room bed, he liked to think it was the same.

.

As they laid naked in the hotel room bed, the two whispered back and forth to each other, pretending that it was sweet pillow talk, but it was actually devising a plan, yet it had other things mixed into it.

"I had no idea that you were that great in bed," America commented to Russia. "I've seriously never had an experience quite like that."

Russia chuckled to himself. "Anytime, Alfred," he said, snuggling the American close. He wasn't quite ready to let America go yet. If he could, he would keep him there in his arms forever, but the universe would never allow something like that.

"Now for that plan," America said, voice dropping to a whisper. "I am locked in the Oval Office with Collins every single day. All day. It's god-awful, and I need help."

"Should I call in your brother to help as well? Maybe he could work as a decoy?"

America shook his head. "He doesn't have much of a presence," he admitted. "Trust me, he wouldn't be able to do much. You know, the last time I saw him, I was so mad at him. I feel bad about that now."

"You can't settle on things of the past," Russia reminded him. "I'm sure he knows that you're sorry, America. Try not to think about it right now. First, we need to come up with a plan. Isn't there some way you can leave the Oval Office?"

The younger nation sighed. "I really doubt it. I've been trying to think of plans myself." He rested his head on Russia's shoulder. "It's just that I have a couple moments at the end of the day where I could make a run for it, but I didn't have anyone to run to until today."

Russia smiled and kissed America's forehead. "Well now you do. Try to hang in there a couple more days for me so I can devise a getaway plan, Alfred."

"Since you're the one telling me that, then I will believe you," America softly said, snuggling closer to his lover for the night. "Stay in here with me tonight," he mumbled. "I don't want to be alone at night anymore like this."

"Okay," Russia softly said. He looked down at the sleepy nation and smiled. America didn't need to ask him to stay. He knew that he was going to stay there all night that night, not because America wanted him to, but because he knew he had no choice but to. Russia had officially fallen for the other nation.

.

Russia and America woke the next morning, tangled in each other and the sheets, to Frank pounding on the door. Apparently it was time to go to the White House, though Frank never said those exact words. The words he used were, "Mr. Jones, you're going to be late for work!"

"Then let me be late!" America yelled back, snuggling back up to his naked lover. For some reason, he really didn't want to leave Russia's arms. Ever. Something about the Russian made him feel safe.

"Alfred, you really should go to work," Russia told him. "I can come back again tonight if you wish, and we can pick up where we left off."

America blushed. "Th-That would be great, Iva-Dmitry," he quickly corrected. He knew that Frank was listening in, so he added, "I'm so sorry. You just remind me of someone I know." His lips pressed against the Russian's. "Your clothes are still in the bathroom."

"Sir, I have his clothes in my hand," Frank called through the door.

"Aren't you just something special?" America scoffed. He got up and went to open the door, allowing Russia time to cover his lap. America was looking for reasons to scar Frank or intimidate him, so he threw open the door, naked, and accepted the clothing. "Thanks, Frank!" he cheerfully said before closing the door once again.

The younger nation walked over to his Russian companion. "I have your clothes, Dmitry," he said. He handed them over and walked over to the wardrobe to pick out what suit to wear that day. He knew he had to look professional whenever he was in the Oval Office. "I hate the clothes I have to wear for work."

"Do the ties choke you?" Russia asked, slipping on his boxers. He stood up and walked over to the wardrobe. "I could help you pick something out." His eyes rested on a tie that was the same shade of blue as Alfred's eyes. "Wear that tie," he quickly said, pointing at it.

America pulled the tie out of the wardrobe. "Why this one?" he asked, confused. "It's so old. It's almost as old as me." He then whispered, "England got this for me when I became independent. He got my brother one when he did as well, but his is a few shades darker."

"Don't you see?" the older nation asked, gently taking the tie from him. He turned America toward a full-length mirror and held the tie up next to his face. "This tie must have been specially made, because it matches your eyes perfectly."

America's eyes widened. "You're right," he breathed. "How did I never realize that? My brother's must match his as well." He turned to Russia. "You must be pretty detail-oriented."

"You notice the little things when you really like someone," Russia said, blushing.

The younger nation wrapped his arms around Russia's shoulders and pulled him in for a kiss. "I never knew that you had a side like this. If I had known before, I would have fallen for you a long time ago."

"You've fallen for me?" the older nation asked, blinking in surprise and relief.

The American blushed. "Well, yeah. I wouldn't have had sex with you last night if I didn't…."

Russia blushed. "Well yeah. Right. I guess that's true." He stood there in an awkward silence with America for a moment before looking up at him and saying, "So you're going to wear that tie today, right?"

America smiled at him. "Of course I will."

.

"What has you so late?" Collins griped the moment America walked into the Oval Office. "I heard you were up late with a Ukrainian man. What's with you and foreign people?"

"Fucking my own people would be like masturbation or something," America commented, sitting down. He adjusted his tie a little and prepared himself mentally for yet another boring day of sitting and staring out the windows. He knew that he had to trust Russia to come up with a plan, but how long would it take?

Collins rolled his eyes. "Do you have to use such vulgar language, Alfred?" he asked with a sigh. His eyes then landed on America's tie. "I've never seen you wear that tie before. Where did you get it?"

"This tie?" America asked, gesturing to it as if he were Vanna White. "England gave it to me when I became independent. I've had it for over 200 years, but I've just never worn it until today."

"Why did you decide to wear it today?" Collins asked, raising an eyebrow.

America laughed to himself. "Well, wouldn't you just like to know?"

"Well, yes, I would. Since you've never worn it before."

The nation smirked at his leader. "Looks like you'll never know."


	8. Chapter 8

America couldn't help but sit all day and ponder what Russia was planning. Every now and then, Collins would give him a questioning look, but the young nation would just ignore him. After all, if he let one tiny hint slip, Russia could be done for in the planning. He knew he had to keep his mouth shut, but didn't that seem suspicious considering the way he had been acting toward Collins lately?

"You're awfully quiet today," Collins commented. "Is something on your mind?"

"I miss my family," America answered. "France, England, Canada…." He closed his eyes and leaned back in the seat. I just want to at least call England and tell him I'm alive…He's probably worried sick about me, you know…" The nation looked down at his tie. "I remember when he gave me this tie…How I wish I could just go back to that day and actually be grateful to him. I didn't know I would get a leader who would be such a dick as to hold me captive…"

"Watch it, Alfred," the president warned.

"I don't care," the nation sighed. He gazed up at the ceiling with longing in his eyes. If he was going to act depressed, he might as well look the part as well. "If you're planning on killing me one of these days, why not just do it now and get it over with? Having a tyrant like you for a leader is no fun anyway. This is not what I agreed to."

"Why would I kill you?" Collins got up from his desk and walked over to America. "That wouldn't be any fun at all, now would it?" He placed his hands on America's shoulders from behind. "And besides, no one is that heartless, are they?"

"I don't know," America sighed. "This is you we're talking about…"

Collins stood to his full height and looked down upon the sitting nation. "United States of America, there is a lot of stuff wrong with you. I don't like your attitude, your economy, or your lifestyle of sleeping with random foreign men you find in hotels. If I could put an end to all of that, I would."

America's eyes widened. Was he threatening to shut him off completely from everyone? That wasn't fair! Could Collins even do something like that? On the inside, he was freaking out, but he knew he had to act like none of this affected him. If he showed any sign of fear at Collins's words, bad things could happen and Collins could ruin Russia's plans.

The nation narrowed his eyes at his leader. "You can't take away my basic freedoms. It's unconstitutional. If I want to sleep with foreign men, I'll sleep with foreign men. You can't stop me from doing the things that I like to do."

Collins clenched his jaw. "So you're just going to hook back up with that man at the hotel again tonight?"

America shrugged. "Whether I do or not, it's none of your business," he simply stated, crossing his legs casually as he sat. He rested his arm on the armrest and rested his hand on his fist, smirking up at Collins. "What I do in my free time doesn't concern you. All you said was that I am to have no contact with any nations, correct?"

"I'm still having trouble believing that you haven't contacted any of them," the president stated. He narrowed his eyes at America. "How am I to believe you?"

"Check my phone if you'd like," America said. "You'll see that my last text sent was to my brother about the White Russian drinks the other night." He then frowned. "Although I would love to call England and at least let him know I'm alive."

"I can't allow that," Collins told him. "There's no telling what you would tell him, and he may try to show up and make a commotion at the airport when he's not allowed through the borders. I will not allow it in my country."

The nation sighed and drummed his fingers on his phone. "I've failed my family because of you," he told Collins. "And if they give up on me because of this, you will officially become Public Enemy Number One once your term is up. I will see to it."

"Your threats mean nothing to me, Alfred," the president spat at him. "Now shut up and go back to sitting quietly like you were all day." He stormed back over to his desk and began to shuffle through his paperwork, making it seem as if he were working.

America sighed and looked out the window. It was going to be a long day.

.

Russia toured the White House once more that day. He wished that they could just let him into the Oval Office. He wanted to see America so badly. There was no way he could wait until evening to see that amazing blond again! His heart was racing as he thought about those bespectacled blue eyes gazing at him. Oh, how he couldn't wait to see him again!

His heart pounded as the touring group walked past the door of the Oval Office. That's where Alfred was. He couldn't believe that there was a simple door separating them. They were fucking nations, and the only thing keeping them apart was a fucking door! But rules were rules, and he needed to obey them for now if he wanted to keep America safe for now. That was his top priority.

Russia's mind wandered to their night of passion from the night before. He wanted another night just like it that night, hoping that America would want the same. What he hated most about it was the fact that it turned him on to think about it, and he was surrounded by people. He couldn't let himself become too aroused when he was with people. They would label him as a pervert, and he couldn't let that happen. He had to remain part of the group.

His mind then went to America panting beneath him and softly moaning out his name the night before. How sweet those moans sounded, like music to his ears. He couldn't wait to hear more of them. Russia closed his eyes as he imagined the night before in his head, thankful of the fact that no one was paying any real attention to him.

When he came out of his trance, he was glad that he wasn't too aroused. He would've never been able to live it down if he was. Russia quickly glanced around to see that the group had moved down the hall a little and quickly caught up with them. He couldn't help but think of America, though. Maybe he should go back to the hotel to think of the plan so he wasn't in public when his mind strayed away from the plan.

As soon as the tour was over, Russia hopped in the nearest cab to head back to the hotel. He had to get away from the swarms of people so he could think about his newly-found lover in peace.

.

America yawned as the day came to a close. He was so glad that his time in the Oval Office was finally over. If he had to endure one more hour in there, he swore he was going to go insane. The nation stood and stretched, happy to be able to leave.

"You're coming back here tomorrow, you know," Collins told him. "So don't get to comfy tonight."

The young nation sighed. "I know," he said. "It's because you're a bossy, little tyrant, Cherry Barry." He smirked at his enraged president. "You're a piece of shit, you know that? You have no right to judge me for my preferences on who I sleep with at night. I don't judge you for sleeping with you wife, now do I?"

"That's different," Collins stated. "My sleeping with my wife is right and pure in God's eyes."

"Who gives a fuck about what's right and pure in the eyes of God?" America asked. "When I die, it's not like I'll go to Heaven or Hell! I'm not even a real human! I'm a fucking nation! I don't care what you or your fucking religious buddies think!" He clenched his jaw and fists in rage. "It shouldn't concern you who I sleep with!"

"Just don't be so open about it," the president told him. "Everyone knows you're an important person here, so don't misrepresent the White House staff."

"I wouldn't be," America snarled at him. "If anyone is misrepresenting them, it's you, Barry." His words were drenched in venom. "Now when I get back to that hotel, I'm going to fuck the sense out of that Ukrainian man from last night, and no one is going to stop me, got it? I need to blow off some steam anyway."

"If you do that, just don't tell me about it tomorrow," Collins snarled back.

The nation glared at him. "Just remember one thing," he stated. "Freedom of speech." He turned to the Secret Service agent that would be accompanying him that night. "Let's get out of this shithole."

.

America knocked on Russia's hotel room door about an hour later. They had gotten stuck in traffic on the way to the hotel, and he was tired of waiting to see his lover. He was anxious and he just wanted Russia to kiss him and hold him and tell him that everything was going to be okay. But they would have to wait until they were alone to wait for that.

Russia opened the door with a puzzled expression. "Mr. Jones?" he asked, playing the part of a confused, yet awestruck man. "You want to see me again?"

"Of course I do, Dmitry," America told him, grabbing his hands. "I would love it if you could accompany me back to my hotel room for the night. That is, if you're free."

"I'm free," Russia quickly said, pretending not to sound too desperate. "I just never thought you would come calling back for me. Most men are just one and done."

"I'm not most men, Dmitry," the younger nation said, leaning against the doorframe and winking at him. "Are you ready to accompany me back to my hotel room?"

Russia smiled widely. "Lead the way, Mr. Jones."

America grinned at him. "That's what I like to hear, Dmitry." He then leaned in and pressed his lips to Russia's enjoying the taste of vodka on them. Though his lover's drinking didn't bother him, he still was a little worried as to what Russia had been doing before he had gotten there and made a mental note to ask later.

.

The American nation turned to his lover once they got out of the shower that night. "Why were you drinking alone, Ivan?" he softly asked, making sure that only Russia would be able to hear him. "Isn't that a bit dangerous?"

Russia blew off the question with a wave of his hand. "I do it all the time, Alfred. It's nothing to worry about. I was just doing it to clear my mind before tonight."

"What would you need to clear your mind for?" America asked him, blinking in surprise as he shrugged into his bathrobe. "I mean, couldn't you have cleared it without alcohol?"

"Does my drinking bother you, Alfred?" Russia asked, glancing over at him from the corner of his eye.

"Not too much," America admitted. "I just don't really know how I feel about it. I was just raised to believe that drinking alone is a bad thing to do. My parents always just drank together and then had some insanely loud sex afterwards."

"I've heard stories about it," the Russian nation laughed. "So would you like to drink with me sometime and have some insanely loud sex afterwards?" he teased.

"Maybe tomorrow night," America laughed. "I'd say tonight during pillow talk we can come up with a plan for my escape."

"That sounds like a great idea," Russia answered, eyes sparkling. "Everything is going to be okay, Alfred. You'll see."

A dark thought suddenly consumed Alfred's mind as he tried to swallow the newly-formed lump in his throat. "What if it's not?" he asked. "What if they find you out?"

"And how would they do that?" Russia asked. "We're being careful, aren't we?"

"Yeah," the American softly said. He shook his head vigorously, trying to rid himself of the thought. "Here, why don't we just go to my bedroom? We'll figure everything out later. I just really need to blow off some steam first."

Russia raised his eyebrows in interest. "Then let's get to it."


	9. Chapter 9

America very carefully removed his tie after closing the door after the two of them entered his bedroom part of the suite. He sighed as he gently placed it on his dresser. "Dude, my boss is such an asshole," he groaned. "He's just the worst?"

"Why not just quit your job?" Russia asked, playing the part of a normal human who didn't know a thing about living nations. Though he knew it wasn't at all that simple, he wished that there was a way America could just quit until Collins was out of office. That president was a terrible man, and no one should have to work for him, especially someone as amazing as America was.

"It's not that simple," America sighed, removing his shirt and sitting on his bed. He unbuttoned and unzipped his pants. "There are a lot of complications, and I'm under a pretty strict contract."

"What kind of contract?" Russia asked, sitting next to him. "Is it like a mile-long contract or something?" His hands wandered over to America's lap as he reached into the other male's boxers and began pumping him with his hand.

The younger nation placed his hands on either side of himself to hold him up. "Try the Declaration of Independence," he quietly moaned. His breaths came out heavier. "God, Dmitry, your hands!" He arched his back a bit and closed his eyes as his length became fully erect. America could barely contain himself, wanting more and more of Russia. His hands found their way to Russia's clothing and began slowly peeling it off as Russia did his work with his hand.

"Are you wanting something?" Russia asked him once he was stripped down to his boxers by America. His length was poking out of the hole in the crotch of them, having been turned on by the way the other nation had undressed him.

"Yeah," the younger nation replied before jumping on top of him. "I want you!"

Russia had no choice but to comply as he reached for the bottle of lubricant near the bed. He was going to have a lot of fun with America. That was for sure.

.

America woke early the next morning, limbs entangled within Russia's. The sun was just beginning to rise outside, so that meant no one else was awake yet. He took that time to admire the sleeping nation next to him, brushing the Russian's bangs out of his eyes. It was moments like these which he cherished the most, moments spent with the people he loved.

"I love you, Ivan," he softly whispered to Russia. His hand cradled the side of his lover's face as he just gazed at it, feeling his heart fill with complicated feelings of love that he had never felt for anyone else in his entire life. Was this what love really was? If so, he wished that time could just pause forever and he could live in this moment for the rest of his life.

Russia stirred a little in his sleep, but he didn't wake. Instead, his arms just pulled America closer to him subconsciously. Even in his sleep, he wanted America by his side.

The younger nation happily complied and snuggled into his lover's embrace. Everything about that moment was perfect: the snuggles, the loving atmosphere, the sunrise in the window. Nothing could ruin it. Nothing except….

A shrill cell phone ringtone began going off. Russia's eyes flicked open as he realized it was his phone. Keeping the blanket around his waist, he moved toward the edge of the bed and dug his phone out of the pants he had been wearing the day before.

"Hello?" he asked, answering it like a human would.

"How is the mission going?" Canada asked on the other end. "Have you found my brother yet? Is he okay? I haven't heard from you in days, Russia! What's going on?"

Russia glanced over at the naked American next to him and smiled to himself. "Oh, I found him, alright," he softly said into the phone. "We're coming up with a plan, okay? Call me in a few hours. I can't talk right now."

"Oh," Canada softly said, sounding concerned, yet disappointed. "I hope I'm not interrupting anything. Talk to you later, eh? Bye." There was a click as he hung up.

America grabbed Russia by the shoulders and pulled the larger nation down on the bed next to him. "So who was that?" he asked. "I know it was someone in my family, because you said you had found me." He kept his voice low in case of the Secret Service agent being outside of the door.

"It was Matthew," the other nation answered. "I haven't spoken with him in a few days because I've been so busy with you."

The younger nation nodded to himself, feeling guilty. "We need to think of something fast," he said, voice barely audible. "There isn't much time left."

"What do you mean?" Russia asked, eyes widening as he looked over at America. "Do you know something I don't know?"

"I keep hearing Collins talking about it when he thinks I'm not listening," America answered. "But the thing is, as nations, we're always listening." He saw Russia nod. "He's trying to start a war, and he won't stop until there is one."

"Who is he declaring war on?" Russia asked.

America felt his eyes fill with tears at just the thought of it. This was the information he had been keeping to himself for a reason. He couldn't bear to think of another war with the nation that Collins chose. "It's you," he softly said. "Collins wants to go to war with you…"

Russia laid there in shock for a moment. The only thing on his mind was how crazy his government must be at the moment with all of the threats from America. Then he was wondering what his boss was doing without him. "I won't let it happen," Russia answered. "I'll save you, and I'll make sure there's no war at all, I promise."

"How can you be so sure?" America asked.

"Do you dare doubt me?" Russia teased, smiling and rubbing his nose against his lover's. "I would never want to go to war with you, Alfred. Never in a million years."

America smiled to himself, tears beginning to go back into his tear ducts. "Thanks, Ivan. I always knew that I could count on you when it mattered." He cupped the Russian's face in his hands and kissed him deeply. "Thank you for coming to save me."

"I couldn't just leave you," his lover answered with a grin. "What kind of a man would I be?" He winked and smiled at America. "When you love someone, you go to great lengths to do anything you can for them, even if it means bad things for you."

Russia's mind then went to his plan for Collins if nothing went the way it was supposed to go. His eyes dropped to the pillow they were sharing. He didn't want to think about what would happen to him if things ended up that way. All he could do was hope and pray that they didn't end up like that.

"What do you mean by bad things?" the younger nation asked. "I don't understand what you're talking about. Nothing bad is going to happen to you, right?"

"Of course nothing bad will happen to me," Ivan chuckled, eyes shining brightly. "I would never let anything bad happen to me. I wouldn't want to make you worry, Alfred!"

"That's good," America breathed. He snuggled back up to Russia. "Someone out there must be really looking out for me, huh?"

"Someone meaning your family," Russia answered. "Matthew, Arthur, Francis, they're all worried about you."

America looked down. "I know," he shamefully admitted. "Here I am, literally fucking around with you, and my family is worried sick about me…"

"Don't worry about it," Russia said, peppering America's neck with kisses. "Let's have a little more fun before you have to get ready for work, okay?" And once more, his hand reached for the lubricant.

.

Canada hung up the phone with a sigh and looked to England and France. "So I'm pretty sure America is safe," he began. "I just got off the phone with Russia, who sounded really tired, but he said he found America, so that's good. But I think something is up."

"What do you mean by that?" England asked, raising a bushy eyebrow. His emerald eyes scanned his former colony's face. "Do you think America is in danger at all?"

"It's not that," Canada softly said. He looked down at his shoes. "It's just that, uh…."

France's eyes widened as he smirked. "I get it," he said in a teasing voice. "You think Russia's in love with America, don't you?"

"It's not that I necessarily think that," Canada said, blushing deeply. "It's just that I think they have some sort of weird relationship already going on between them is all."

"America's love life is none of our business!" England declared, turning to France. "Isn't that right?"

"Do you think they've had sex yet?" France eagerly asked Canada, eyes lit up and sparkling. He reached over and grabbed the younger nation's hands with both of his. "I'm wondering if America is a top or a bottom! What do you think?"

England reached over and grabbed France by the ear. "What did I just say?!" he barked at the Frenchman. "You're coming with me."

France let go of Canada's hands. "We'll talk later, oui?" he said to the younger nation with a wink. "I look forward to our chat."

As Canada watched the two men who raised him leave the room they were all in, he couldn't help but feel secondhand embarrassment for America. How could France so openly say things like that about him? It wasn't right. But it also made Canada wonder. Was there something going on between Russia and his brother?

.

America walked into the Oval Office, messing with his ears. They just wouldn't stop ringing and it was bugging him. He scowled as Collins looked over at him quizzically.

"What's going on with your ears?" Collins scoffed.

"They're just ringing," America grumbled, sitting in his usual spot. "It's nothing."

"Maybe you should get them checked out," the president said. "Or maybe one of your little nation friends is talking about you. Who knows?"

"First off," America said to Collins, a permanent scowl on his face, "you don't talk about my nation friends. You don't know them. You've never met them. There is no way I would let them meet you either. They all hate you for what you're doing to me, I just know it. You're lucky England isn't here to lecture you. His lectures are torture."

"What a childish answer," Collins answered with an impish grin. He crossed his arms over his chest. "Your precious England will not come to save you because his land and duties to his land are more important to him than you will ever be."

"That's not true," America growled, growing more and more defensive with each moment.

"Really now?" Collins looked around the room. "Then where is he? Why isn't he here to help you? Face it, Alfred. You have no allies. You have nothing. That's why you're here with me. It's because no country in the world gives a shit about poor, bratty America."

America felt his rage building up inside of him. He had to keep it together so Russia could come and help, but how could he do that when Collins was being so unbearable? "Just shut the fuck up," America told him. "You have no idea what you're talking about. I'm friends with the entire world."

"Then where are they?" Collins asked. When America didn't answer, he chuckled to himself. "That's what I thought."


	10. Chapter 10

America groaned as he walked into the lobby of the hotel. His eyes immediately searched the room for Russia, but he couldn't find him anywhere. Where could he be? Didn't they agree to meet in the lobby at the end of the day that morning? Had he just gotten the time wrong? He looked over the lobby once more, trying not to seem eager, yet he didn't find Russia in there. His heart began to pound. Where was he?

"Mr. Jones, can we hurry it up?" Frank asked from behind him. "I know you're looking for your fuck buddy, but he's obviously not here."

America whirled on Frank with eyes like daggers. "You're not in charge here, Frankie boy," he snarled at the Secret Service agent. "When we're here, I call the shots."

Frank sighed. "Then go to his room to find him."

"I don't want you to come with me," America groaned. "It's none of your business what we do." He sighed and combed his fingers through his hair. "I don't even have his phone number." In all truth, he did have Russia's number, but it was saved as "Russia" in his phone, and he couldn't change that without looking suspicious.

"Why are you so distressed over some guy? It's not like it will matter when the travel ban gets taken down. He'll leave and forget all about you, just like everyone else seems to."

More than anything, America wanted to lay his fist into Frank's face, but he knew he had to stay calm, remembering that he couldn't harm his own citizens unless if it were self-defense. There was no way he could use his anger as an excuse for self-defense, so he was stuck enduring what Frank had to say.

America clenched his jaw and glared daggers at Frank before stalking off to his room, only to find Russia patiently waiting outside of it. "Dude, I thought we were meeting in the lobby," he said, relieved to be reunited at last with his foreign lover. All he wanted to do at the moment was just melt away in the taller nation's embrace.

"We were? I completely forgot," Russia answered, blinking in surprise. "I'm sorry, Alfred. If I would have remembered, I would have met you there instead." He observed the mood between the younger nation and Frank for a moment. "Did I cause something between the two of you because of it?"

"Nothing at all," America answered with a wave of his hand. He pulled his key card out of his pocket. "Let's just get into the room. I'm so ready to just chill."

Russia nodded his understanding and followed America into the hotel room once it was open. He went into the bedroom with America and watched as the younger nation practically ripped off his suit and replaced it with a t-shirt and sweat pants. "I take it you had quite the day," he observed.

"Dude, you have no idea," America sighed with a frown. "I hate my boss so much…"

"From what you've said, he sounds like a real prick," the Russian agreed with a nod. He sat on the edge of America's bed as the younger nation came and sat on his lap, leaning heavily against him. "The gears are turning in my head," he muttered into his lover's ear. "It won't be much longer, Alfred."

"I really hope so," America miserably sighed, snuggling up to Russia. "I'm so done with being in that office day in and day out. It's terrible. It really is." He lifted his head to look up at his Russian lover. "I can't take much more of it."

"What does he do to you when you're in there?"

The American bit his lip. "He tells me that none of you care about me," he whispered. "Then he mocks me and says that I'll never be anything great again."

"Little does he know," Russia softly said before kissing America's forehead.

The younger nation suddenly felt more at ease, resting his head on Russia's shoulder and closing his eyes. "I never thought I could ever feel this way about you," he admitted. "England was always telling me to stay away from you, saying that you were dangerous and would only break my heart in the end, but I don't believe that."

"I'm glad that you don't," Russia answered, smiling. "Because it's not true. I really do care about you, America. More than I've cared about anyone else, even my sisters."

"You mean that?" America asked him, wide-eyed. He had never thought that Russia was capable of caring about anyone before all of this had happened. But now, he knew otherwise. He knew that Russia was a good man with a good heart.

"I do," the Russian answered with a nod. He gave America another kiss on the forehead. "You are one lucky nation, America, to have the support of Russia behind you. We will never go to war with each other, I promise you."

America wrapped his arms around Russia's waist and snuggled into his chest, listening to the taller nation's heartbeat. In that moment, he felt completely safe, like nothing was wrong at all. Oh, how he wished this moment could last forever. How he wished he didn't have to return to the Oval Office day after day until Russia thought of something.

"Save me," he whispered to his lover.

"I will," Russia promised, running his fingers through America's hair. "I promise I will, even if it's the last thing I do."

.

Russia smiled at America that night as they laid in bed together. He played carelessly with his lover's hair as he stared into the younger nation's blue eyes. Those eyes were something he could look at forever, lost in a sea of blue. It was times like these where they didn't need sex to be close. All they needed was to be physically close, which they were.

America sighed out happily and snuggled up to Russia, taking in the scent of his cologne. He loved the smell of it. In fact, he loved everything about the Russian. There was nothing he hated or disliked about Russia at all. He was so overcome with love for him that everything about his lover was perfect.

"Alfred, what do you dream of at night?" Russia asked him, smiling. He twisted some of America's blond hair around his fingers and continued playing with it as he awaited his answer.

"I dream of a free America," the younger nation answered. "Where there is no travel ban or having to sit in the office all day." He sighed and frowned. "An America where no one is tortured for what they believe or who they are. I dream of the day where America really is the land of the free."

"I already know it's the home of the brave," Russia softly said. "Because it's your home." He smiled at his lover. "Alfred, you are a lot more brave than you let on, you know that? When life tries to kick you down, you refuse to let it. It's quite admirable of you. Even right now, when you hate your boss and your job, you just keep going."

"I don't know if I'd call that bravery," America sheepishly said. "I think it's more stubbornness than anything. At least that's what Arthur used to tell me. He's always say that I was bull-headed and demanding."

"Sometimes you have to be that way," the older nation said. "Maybe that's why we're such a good fit."

America shrugged. "That may be." He smiled. "You're wonderful, Ivan," he whispered. "I don't know where I'd be without you."

"I'm sure you'd be just fine."

"No," the younger nation softly said. "You don't understand. Without you as my rival before, I never would have made it this far. We need to stick together. You're good for me. Promise me that we'll be together forever."

"I promise," Russia told him, "but only if you promise me the same thing."

America smiled to himself with a hum. "Well of course I do."

"Then it's settled," the Russian answered. "Let's stick together forever, Alfred."

"I'd love that."

.

The next morning, America woke up in Russia's embrace once more. It was so comforting to him that he almost went back to sleep if it wasn't for the fact that he noticed Russia was awake as well. He wondered what Russia would be doing awake at that time, though. He was never awake this early when visiting America.

"Is something wrong?" America asked him, concerned.

"Nothing," Russia softly answered. "I am only thinking."

"What are you thinking about?" The younger nation didn't want to press too much, but he was just curious. He had never seen his lover thinking so hard, not even during world meetings, so it must be something serious.

"I'm thinking of a way to get you out without causing harm to anyone," Russia answered. "It will be hard, but I will do my best to make sure no one will get hurt, especially you."

"Do you need any help brainstorming?" America asked.

"Nyet," Russia answered with a shake of his head. "But thank you for offering. All I need to do is picture you in my head as my goal."

America blushed, but he knew Russia was right. There was a lot going on, and Russia needed to make sure that no one would get hurt since they weren't allowed to harm humans. So Russia was going to need a solid plan if he was going to get away with stealing America back safely.

"I'm sorry if I'm distracting you," America softly apologized.

"Don't ever think that you are," Russia told him with a small smile. "I enjoy having you around. After all, you are my muse. You are the reason I'm doing all of this, are you not?" He kissed his lover's forehead softly. "Never feel like a burden to me. And remember, the things that I'm going to do, I will be choosing to do, okay? Never blame yourself for my actions."

America nodded, a little confused. "Okay."

"I'm going to steal you today," Russia told him. "So be waiting for it."

.

America sat in the corner of the Oval Office, waiting for Russia. His love hadn't told him his plan at all, and he could only hope that it would be okay and that no one would get hurt. Then again, knowing Russia's past with that kind of stuff, there was no guarantee.

His eyes went to the clock. It was already noon, and he was sure he looked suspicious, so he tried to draw attention to himself by crossing his legs and kicking at the coffee table in front of him with his dangling leg.

"Stop that, Jones," Collins commanded from his desk, not even bothering to look up. "You're being such a pain today. Even more of one that usual. Did you get dumped last night or something? I knew that guy wouldn't be able to stand you for too long."

"What is with you people and insulting me like that?" America demanded, jumping up from his chair. "Why do you always say things like that to me? Just because I'm not you doesn't mean that people don't love me for who I am! I'm surprised people even like any of you!"

"It's not that they like us," Collins said with a chuckle, finally looking up at America. "They fear us. Or more, they fear you."

"Why would they fear me?" America asked.

There was suddenly a crash as the door opened and a tall figure stepped through. Russia had arrived.


	11. Chapter 11

America blinked for a moment, unable to believe his eyes. This was Russia's plan? There was no way that was even possible! Surely Russia was a better strategist than this! He had to be! There was no way that Russia would just come charging through the door like this! No, he had to be dreaming! Yet no matter how much America pinched at himself, Russia remained where he was, directly where the fallen door had once stood.

"Get down, Mr. President!" the Secret Service agents all called out, forcing Collins to duck behind his desk.

The young nation smirked to himself. Of course they would see Russia as a threat, even if he was only there to rescue America.

Russia simply smiled at the Secret Service agents and picked up the door, propping it back up into place. "Pardon my intrusion," he simply said, dusting his coat off. "It seems we have a bit of a problem here, and I was wondering if we could clear it up, da?"

"What on God's green earth are you talking about?!" Collins roared from his cover under his desk. "You knocked the fucking door off of its hinges!"

Russia turned back around to see the door fall backwards behind him. "Yes, about that," he began, "it was the only way I could get in to speak with you, I'm afraid. So it had to be done." He giggled a little. "I am terribly sorry about your door, President Collins. Now, will you please come out from behind your desk and talk to me, or will I have to remove that as well?"

"Alfred Jones, do something!" Collins roared.

"Okay," America answered with a shrug. He walked over to the desk and, with great ease, lifted it, exposing his president and the Secret Service agents covering him. "Collins, I'd like you to meet my pal, Ivan Braginsky, also known as Russia."

"R-R-R-Russia?!" Collins stammered. "That can't be! I ordered a travel ban!"

Russia smiled a gentle smile at Collins. "You can't stop me, Collins. I'm afraid I'm just too powerful for you, a mere human, to control. Sorry about that." He giggled once more. "Or should I say I'm not sorry?"

America smiled over at Russia as he set the desk down along another wall in a way where no one could get behind it. "So you see, Russia only wants to talk. He comes in peace, my man. So why don't we start making with the discussion?"

Collins eyed Russia carefully before slowly rising to a sitting position in his chair. "If a discussion is all he wants, then a discussion is all he'll get," he snarled. He pointed a finger at the Russian. "I don't appreciate you barging in here like this at all! Where did you learn your manners?!"

"I am afraid I don't have time for manners when it comes to scum like you," Russia answered with a polite smile. "Now what do you say we get to talking? We have a lot of ground to cover."

"Like what?" Collins demanded, not used to being insulted by anyone other than America.

"I want you to, I don't know, lift your travel ban," Russia casually stated, yet near the end of it, his voice tone made it sound like more of a demand. "I would like to be able to freely visit my precious America whenever I please, but I can't legally do that with your stupid travel ban. Also, I'm afraid that I'm stuck here until it's lifted." He giggled innocently. "So that seems to be a problem as well."

"I will not lift that travel ban!" Collins barked. "You're stuck here because you illegally snuck into our country! That is not my fault!"

"But sir," the Russian interrupted. "How are you to go to war with my country if I'm not there to help my leader decide it? He is not allowed to make decisions without me, you know." He winked at Collins. "That's right, Collins. I know all about your desire to go to war with Russia. By all means, do it. But you'll never sever my bond with America."

America smiled to himself. "That's right, Collins. Russia and I have a strong bond that can never be broken, not by any kind of war."

"That's all very well, but once you're both blown to smithereens, you'll think otherwise," Collins stated.

"You'll think otherwise when my leader goes after you," Russia calmly answered. "My leader fights dirty. He'll take you out first, Collins."

Collins gulped. "You're bluffing."

Russia kept a straight face. "Would you like to see if I am?"

Collins looked Russia in the eye and held his gaze for about five seconds before looking away. Deep down, he was trying to keep himself from trembling.

"You're pretty brave for a human," Russia commented. "That's the longest one of you has ever looked me in the eye." A demonic smirk crossed his lips. "I am flattered."

By that point, no one in the room really knew what to think, not even America. Sure, the younger nation had seen this side of Russia before, but never toward a human. Could Russia really see Collins as that big of a threat? It almost made America a little nervous. What could Russia be thinking at that exact moment. America understood scare tactics, but was all of this intimidation really necessary?

"What is this bond between you and America that you keep mentioning?" Collins asked, not lifting his eyes from the floor. "Please explain it to me. I cannot seem to grasp it."

"It's quite simple, really," Russia explained with a broad smile. He held his hand out to America, which the younger nation gladly accepted. "America and I are lovers. And there is nothing any of you can do about it."

America's face turned a deep crimson color. He wasn't expecting Russia to just outwardly say it like that. By all means, he didn't care that they knew, but it was just an unexpected way to announce such a thing! But at that moment, he didn't care. His eyes only saw his love at that moment, and that was all he needed to see.

"Then do I have news for you!" Collins cackled. "America here has been sneaking around behind your back with some Ukrainian guy this past week."

"Oh no," Russia answered, "I know about that. Because that was me in disguise." He smiled warmly. "Your country is so welcoming, don't you think?" Russia winked a violet eye at his lover. "I received a wonderful welcome from him."

America squeezed Russia's hand and smiled when Russia squeezed his back. "Collins, you're a lot more stupid than I thought you were, trying to rat me out to my lover." He clicked his tongue as he shook his head. "You silly, silly man."

"So Russia is Dmitry?" Frank asked, pointing to the taller nation.

Russia grinned at him. "That's right," he laughed. "I'm the one who has been in that bedroom with America every night this past week." He winked at Frank. "Isn't that just a shocker for you? And to think you thought you knew who I was. Pity."

Frank snarled at Russia. "You fooled all of us! How could you do that?!" He clenched his fist tightly. "Why would you do that?!"

"Because it was the only way I could earn even the slightest bit of trust from an uptight person such as yourself," Russia answered with a shrug, still holding America's hand. "Now that that's out of the way, why don't we get back to talking about this travel ban, da?"

"There is no way in hell that I will let it up!" Collins roared. "Especially after you tricked us like that! We will have you locked up for this, Russia!"

Russia laughed. "Well that's no fun, is it?"

"No fun at all," America agreed, smiling over at his lover.

"What ever shall I do, America? Your leader wants to lock me up." The Russian laughed lightly. "He is such a terrible leader. If it were my leader, he'd have already sentenced the intruder to death!" Russia laughed harder and louder. "President Collins, you are just too funny!"

Collins sat there in an uncomfortable silence. He just couldn't wrap his head around this Russia character. Was his mentality really that cracked? What did America see in him? This guy was insane!

Russia stopped laughing and turned to America. "Now back to serious matters. We need to make sure there is no funny business going on. America, would you please make sure that everyone is cooperating? Just check their wires."

America walked around the room, removing the headsets from every Secret Service agent as Russia watched. "All clear," he said at the final one. He wasn't sure what Russia's plan was, but he knew he could trust his lover on this. He knew that everything was going to be okay, even if it didn't seem like it at that exact moment. America knew better than to question Russia on something like this. After all, his lover had much more experience in situations like this than he did.

"Glad to see you're all ready to cooperate now," the Russian giddily said, clapping his hands together childishly. "This will all go smoothly if you do everything I say."

"Not like we have much of a choice," Collins muttered. "You literally just took the entire Oval Office hostage with the help of our own nation."

Russia smiled proudly. "I know I did. And you all did so well in assisting me with it as well! Thank you so much for making it easy on me!"

It suddenly dawned on America. They really did just take the Oval Office hostage! What?! When did that happen?! Was he suddenly a bad guy?! What was going on?! His heart was beating rapidly, and he couldn't stop it, but he didn't want to say anything to Russia for fear of angering him after all he had done for him.

"America, I would like you to keep those wires on you and answer when people talk so no one thinks anything is up," Russia instructed his lover with a smile. "Can you do that for me?"

"Of course I can," America answered with a smile. "Anything for you, Russia."

Collins rolled his eyes. "You two are going to make me sick," he grumbled.

Russia glared over at Collins. "I would be quiet over there if I were you," he simply stated, voice low and threatening. "You never know what could happen to you."

"Russia," America softly warned. He wondered if his lover remembered the fact that they can't hurt humans. Surely he did. He had to!

"America, I woud prefer if you did not tell me what to do," Russia softly answered. "I have been waiting too long for this, and it will only mess up my plan. All I'm going to do is make him take back his travel ban. That is all."

"If you're sure," America softly said.

Russia looked over at him, gazed softening ever so slightly. "Please believe me when I say that I'm doing all of this for you. I wouldn't dream of harming anyone in the process."

Those words helped America cheer up a little as he perked up slightly. His gaze went back to Collins as he said, "There is no use resisiting Russia, Collins. He is much stronger than me. And he won't hurt you unless if it was necessary." America knew he had to lie about that rule to make Collins cooperate. "Though he said he wouldn't dream of harming anyone, it doesn't mean that he won't, so it's best to just do what he says and get it over with."

Collins spat at America. "Over my dead body! You superhuman nations shouldn't even exist!"

"But yet we do, and there is nothing you can do about it," Russia stated with a careless shrug. "Now how about we stop talking about things we can't change and move on to things that we actually can."


	12. Chapter 12

Canada paced around his living room. "This isn't working out," he sighed. "I knew I shouldn't have sent Russia after America. It's all my fault if things go badly…"

France put a hand on the young Canadian's shoulder. "It's nothing to worry about. I'm sure Russia is doing a wonderful job." Even though he was saying this stuff, he knew that there really was a reason to worry. Russia wasn't exactly the easiest person to negotiate with. "Besides, things are probably going well. We should get our results soon."

"Well I called him this morning and he said he was going to go and enter the Oval Office today," Canada said. "That means he's getting America, right?"

"Of course it does!" England snapped from the corner. He was so stressed out about the situation that he couldn't even enjoy the tea that his former colony had made for him. "He has to! I won't forgive him if he doesn't!"

"Let's calm down there, Arthur," France said, walking over to his lover. He stood behind him and began rubbing his shoulders. "I know you're stressed about America being taken hostage by his own government, but you need to stay calm. I'm sure Russia won't slip up and that America will be fine by tomorrow."

"You had better be right," England sighed. "Or I'll never forgive you."

"Let's step outside and have a smoke, no?" France suggested, offering a hand to England. "Mathieu, you stay in here, okay?"

Canada nodded, wondering what they were going to go and talk about.

Once outside, England whipped around toward France. "Have you lost your bloody mind?" he demanded, teeth clenched. "Canada is in there, trying not to worry about his brother, and you're only making things worse by talking about it!"

"Look, I'm worried too," France said. "But that's not going to bring America back, now is it?"

England frowned. "Just promise me he'll come back to us, frog."

"As you wish, mon cher," France said, kissing England's hand.

.

"There will be no war with Russia, da?" Russia asked Collins, getting quite close to his face. So close, in fact, that he could have kissed him if he wanted to. But he was disgusted by the man and only got close to his face as an intimidation factor. He wanted to make sure Collins was good and scared. "Are we clear on that?"

"What makes you think I won't sign a treaty now and rip it up later?" Collins asked him.

"That would not be a wise choice on your part, President Collins," Russia said, smiling darkly. "Things would only end badly for you." His smile turned sweet. "And I wouldn't want something bad to happen to my precious America because of you, now would I? So you just need to follow my orders and everything will go smoothly. If you don't, then things will only end badly for you. Ultimately, it's your choice, though." He giggled a little. "See? I can be nice. I'm giving you an option. You can do it my way, or we can do it the hard way. You decide. See, it's a wonderful idea."

Collins looked over at America. "Is he for real? He's threatening the president. Aren't you going to do something?"

America looked out the window at a bird flying by. "Nah."

"You are the worst nation to ever exist!" Collins hissed at America.

Russia pressed down hard on a pressure point on the president, causing the man to gasp out in pain. "I dare you to repeat that," he growled into his ear. "America is wonderful, and you will treat him as such. After all, he is a much more superior being than you. Now, I've given you your options. Pick whichever one you please."

Everyone in the room turned to stare at Collins, the president feeling all of the pressure on him. He didn't like it one bit. Whenever he had been placed in these situations before, he used to retreat to think of some sort of plan. But now there was nowhere to retreat to, and no plan to be made.

"President Collins, we are waiting," Russia said with a sinister smile. "Do not keep us waiting much longer."

Collins gulped. This situation wasn't good. "Fine," he grumbled. "Have it your way, Russia. Do what you want, but that won't be the end of it."

"Oh, I'm afraid that it will be," Russia answered with a smile. "After all, you're just lucky I'm not out for blood, President Collins. Otherwise, you might be in trouble."

America watched as Collins shot him a pleading look. "What? You wouldn't listen to me before. Why would I help you now? You never did shit for me anyway."

"I was going to make America great again, but we can't with this psychopath here," he said gesturing to Russia.

The younger nation stormed over to Collins and picked him up off the floor by his collar. "Russia is not a psychopath," America growled at him. "The sooner you get that through you head, the sooner we can get along."

Russia smiled innocently. "All I want is for you to lift the travel ban. Is that so wrong?" he asked, shrugging. "I just want to be able to see America more often."

"Don't play innocent now!" Collins snarled at him. "You're the reason the travel ban was put up in the first place! America, why can't you see how dangerous he is?"

"Because I love him," America answered. "Everything about him. Sure, he may be sinister and terrifying at times, but I've never been afraid of him before. He's strong and courageous. Why can't you see how great of a person he is?"

"Red flags are everywhere about this guy," Collins stated. "But then again, you're just looking at him through rose-tinted glasses anyway." He crossed his arms over his chest. "I don't see why I even bother."

"You know, neither do I," America commented to him. "Maybe you should stop."

"Don't turn your back on me like this, America," Collins pleaded. "You don't know what you're doing for this so-called love! He may as well try to take you over or something once I'm out of the way!"

"Russia would never do something like that to me," the young nation stated, forgetting that the person they were even talking to was right in front of them. "He loves me, Collins. And he wouldn't hurt you either, because he knows that will hurt me. Every time a president or former president dies, I get an ache in my chest that feels like what you humans would know as a heart attack. It hurts so bad that I am incapacitated for awhile. It happens to all of us when our leaders or former leaders die. And I know that Russia would never do that to me."

The Russian nation smiled over at America. "That's true. It is very painful, indeed." He turned to Collins. "So now that you feel reassured, what do you say we start talking about letting America go and lifting that travel ban? That's the only reason I'm here."

"But if I lift it, you'll just keep coming back," Collins sighed.

"Of course he will," America said. "He's my boyfriend."

"You really don't know what you're getting yourself into," the president said. "This is dangerous, America. I can't allow it. There's no way I'll sign anything that will let him freely wander my country."

"I'm freely wandering it now," Russia stated. "I have been for a week or so now. And how am I supposed to get home unless it's lifted?"

Collins glared at him. "I really don't like your attitude."

"Well I don't like you," Russia cheerfully said with a wide smile. "Looks like neither of us can truly win, now can we?"

.

Collins and Russia argued back and forth for hours until Russia finally had enough. He pinned Collins against the wall and snarled at him, "If you won't lift the ban, there will be some serious consequences in it for you."

"Like what?" Collins asked him.

Russia took one of the president's fingers and bent it back further and further until there was a sharp, cracking noise and Collins yelped in pain. "Please, just do it," he said. "Make it easy on yourself."

America, who had kept his silence for that long, finally spoke up. "Russia, we're not supposed to harm humans," he reminded, concerned. What if other countries heard about this?

Collins got a wicked smile on his face. "Did you just break a law of nationhood?" he mocked.

"America," Russia sighed. "Why did you say that in front of him?"

The younger nation suddenly felt scared. If Russia would break the one rule of nationhood and harm a human, what did that mean for him since he had witnessed it and did nothing to protect his president? Did that make him just as guilty of it? And what was going to happen if Collins snitched about it to another nation? A lump started forming in America's throat as he stomach began to turn. This wasn't good.

"Russia, dude, maybe you should back off from him a little," America suggested. "I mean, you don't have to let him go, but there are tons of witnesses in here. They saw what you did, and I know that they're all snitches. Every last one of them."

"I don't care about that," Russia stated. "I only want the ban lifted."

"Why do you want it lifted badly enough that you'd harm my leader for it?" America slowly asked. "Don't' you care about my well-being?"

"America, it's the only way to get you your freedom back," Russia told him, ignoring the whimpering Collins as he broke another one of his fingers. "Now, listen to me, okay? I will get you out of this mess. After all, you're not doing anything wrong."

"But what about you?" America asked. "Surely there has to be another way."

"There isn't," Russia said. "Your president won't cooperate with me."

America took a deep breath and turned to Collins one last time. "Mr. President, please! I'm begging you! Just do what he says! I can't guarantee anything anymore!" he pleaded. He had never been more terrified in his life. Nothing was going according to plan anymore. What was Russia thinking?

Collins spat at America. "I'd rather die!"

"Then so be it," Russia stated.

Everything from that point on happened in almost slow motion for the American nation. He reached out for his president, but Russia already had his hands on him. There was a sickening moment as Collins's neck was snapped and then America began to feel excruciating pain in his chest.

The young nation fell to the ground as things seemed to pick back up in speed. "R-Russia?" he asked. "What have you done?" He was gasping for breath, for anything to relieve the pain of his leader dying. "You've broken the only rule!"

Russia looked down at America with teary eyes. "I did it for you," he softly said. "I did it so you could be free. Please don't hate me for this, America."

But America was barely listening. He couldn't believe that Russia had killed Collins like that. It didn't seem real. But the pain was real. Everything about that moment was too real for the American's liking, except Russia picking him up and carrying him from the room.

"R-Russ-"

Russia shushed the younger nation. "Please don't speak, America. We'll deal with it when you are feeling better."

But all America could do was wonder if Russia would even be there when he was feeling better. After all, what did happen to nations who killed humans?


	13. Chapter 13

When America finally came to, he was in a dark room, surrounded by countless other nations. At that point, there was no more pain in his chest. Instead, there was a strong sinking feeling in his stomach, especially when Germany's gaze fell upon him. His eyes desperately searched around for Russia, but he couldn't find him anywhere.

"America! You're awake!" England ran over to him and threw his arms around him. "My God! We thought you weren't going to make it! You had us all worried sick!"

"I'm fine," America muttered at him. "It's no big deal."

"Oh, but it is," France said, stepping up behind England. "Russia killed your leader, America. President Collins is dead, and he died by Russia's hand." He placed a hand on America's shoulder. "Don't worry, we have Russia in captivity for doing this to you."

"Let him go," the young nation stated. "He did it for me. Just please let him go."

"That is one request that we are unable to fulfill," Germany stated from where he stood. "Russia broke the main rule of nationhood, and we cannot easily forgive that, even if he did do it for you." He crossed his arms over his chest. "There are still many things about this that we don't understand."

"What's going to happen to him?" America asked, panicked. His heart began beating wildly with anxiety. "I need Russia to be okay!"

England pulled away from his former colony and brushed his bangs from his forehead, checking his temperature. "Al, you're running a fever," he observed. "You're still unwell after the passing of your president. Maybe it's best that you rest some more while we decide what to do with Russia."

America shoved England away from him. "No! I don't want to rest! I want to talk to Russia! He's the only one other than me who truly knows what happened that day!" He was nearly fuming by this point. "Just let me talk to him alone for awhile!"

"And why should we let you do that?" Germany asked. "So you can get your stories to line up? Not a chance!"

The young nation was now starting to lose his patience. "Listen, I'm just about done with you, Deutschland," he snarled. "I need to talk to Russia, and I need to talk with him now. Fuck your stupid rules! You think you're the leader of the world, but you're just a nation like the rest of us! If I want to see Russia, I will! You can't fucking stop me! I will raise hell if you try!"

Germany hardened his glare. "Try it. I dare you." Behind Germany stood Finland, Sweden, Denmark, and Norway. "I doubt you have the backup that I have."

America cursed under his breath and glared back at Germany. "Real tough, bringing the Scandinavians to a fight with only one other person," he spat. "Shows how much of a man you really are, that's for sure."

"I will not allow you to just sit there and insult mein Brüder like that!" Prussia shouted, coming forward. "America, why can't you just accept no for an answer? Russia betrayed the Law of Nationhood! He needs to deal with the consequences!"

"That would be all fine and dandy if I knew what the fucking consequences were!" America shot back.

"You mean to tell us you don't know what the consequences for killing a nation's leader are?" Romano demanded, storming up to America. "How much of an ignorant fuckwad are you?!"

Spain came forward and pulled Romano back, apologizing in Spanish, before looking at America with disbelieving green eyes. "You seriously don't know what happens to a nation for killing a leader?"

America shook his head. "I've never been told."

"I'll tell him," Finland answered, stepping up. He took a deep breath before calmly kneeling in front of the younger nation, eyes sad. "If a nation were to kill either their own leader or another nation's leader, like Russia did, they are immediately stripped of their nation status and imprisoned in one of their prisons for the next 100 years. Another nearby nation has to step up and take control of the former nation's land during that time. After the 100 years is up, the nation gets one more shot. If they kill another leader after that…" His voice trailed off. "I shouldn't have to explain what comes after that."

America remained silent for a long time as he thought it through. "Is Russia a repeat offender?" he slowly asked.

Finland placed a hand on America's shoulder and smiled. "Luckily, he's not. I understand this next century is going to be hard on you, but just remember that you'll see him again."

The young nation fell forward and rested his head on Finland's shoulder, finally releasing all of the tears he had been holding back. Just the thought of having no contact with Russia for the next 100 years made his chest hurt in a way that it had never hurt before. He felt Finland's arms embrace him and rub his back in a comforting way, but nothing could comfort him at that moment.

The last thing America heard before blocking everything out was Germany stating, "Russia's sentence starts today."

.

100 Years Later

America tapped his pencil against his desk in the Oval Office as his new president shared his ideas with him. As much as he wanted to pay attention to this president, he just couldn't bring himself to. It was officially 100 years to the day Russia's sentence started. The only thing he could think about was his flight scheduled to Moscow that left in twenty minutes.

"I hate to cut you off, Mr. President," America began, standing up, "but I have some important matters to attend to. If you'll excuse me."

"Of course," the president stated, smiling. "When can I expect you back?"

"I will be gone for a few days, so I'd say...Monday?" the nation suggested.

"Where, might I ask, are you going?"

America smiled to himself. "Moscow," he slowly answered. "I'm going to Moscow."

"Be safe," the president warned. "I know it happened so long ago, but there are some Russians out for American blood."

The nation's smiled faded a little. "Not American blood," he corrected. "He was out for freedom. There is a huge difference."

.

One Day Later

America looked around the restaurant he was supposed to meet Russia in. Everything about the world was so different after 100 years, it was almost unbelievable. He looked around the completely technologic restaurant around him.

Waiters and waitresses didn't exist in most restaurants these days, but he and Russia had agreed on a restaurant that had one. People ordered their meals on electronic tablets, sending direct orders to the chefs in the back. The only things the waiters did was refill drinks and bring the food. Everything was paid for by scanning your card on the tablet. No one carried cash anymore. Everyone's money was now held on things that looked like credit cards that were issued to a person at birth.

America tapped his foot on the floor as he waited for Russia to arrive. He ordered a drink while he waited, something fizzy, caffeinated, and carbonated to keep him awake. Oh, how he hoped Russia would hurry up. He pulled out his phone to check the time and sighed. Russia was late by ten minutes.

Just when America looked toward the door, he saw Russia walk in. He looked more handsome than ever, but also more tired than he had ever looked in the entire time the two had known each other. A smile graced his face the moment he saw America waiting for him, and he quickly made his way to the table.

"Alfred!" he greeted, sitting down. "It has been too long! How have the years been treating you? You look good." His hands were shaking. It wasn't just his hands, though. His entire body was trembling.

"Why are you shaking, Ivan?" America asked, reaching out and grabbing one of his hands with both of his. "Is everything okay?"

Russia's eyes filled up with tears. "I've been waiting for this day for so long, and now that it's finally here…" He sniffled a little and bowed his head, refusing to let America see his tears. "I can't explain how happy I really am. This is what I've been dreaming of for a century, the day we are reunited." His body shook with silent sobs. "I thought I would never see you again. I thought you would hate me and never want to see me ever again."

"I almost fought Germany to see you before they put you in the prison, but he brought out the Scandinavians and…" America sighed. "I'm sorry, Russia."

"No, America," the older nation stated, looking up at America. His cheeks were streaked with tears, yet his gaze held strong feeling. "I'm the one who needs to be sorry. I killed Collins and caused you pain, pain you didn't deserve to feel."

"You were fighting for my freedom," America told him. He brought Russia's hand up to his lips and kissed it tenderly. "I could never hate you for that. You only did what needed to be done. I see that now."

Russia swallowed hard. "Are you sure?" he asked.

"Of course I am. I'm so happy we're together now, Ivan. I wouldn't let you go again for the world."

"I'm glad you feel the same," Russia admitted. "I honestly thought this last century would be the death of me. I thought I had lost you forever." He bit his lip as he struggled to hold back tears once more. "I never want to go back to prison."

"I'll never let you go back."

.

That night, America snuggled up to Russia in his new house, on his new bed. There was nowhere else in the entire world that he would rather be than in his lover's arms. And as they snuggled up to each other, the love between them was nearly tangible.

"I've been waiting all day for this," America admitted before pulling the older country into a passionate kiss. He had been waiting all day to kiss his lover, but he wanted to wait for the right time. "Ivan, I want to be with you until the end of time."

"The feeling is mutual," Russia answered, pulling America into another kiss. "Let's do just that, Alfred. Let's stick together until the end of time."

"I would be honored." America rolled over on top of Russia and kissed him even more deeply than he had kissed him before. "Ever since Collins became president of my country, times have been pretty trying for me, but my time with you has always been wonderful, and I thank you for that. For the past 100 years, they have tried to bend and break me over and over, but there is one thing I know that they don't."

"Oh yeah?" Russia asked, amused. "And what's that?"

"I am unbreakable."


End file.
